


we'll give the world to you

by ohmytheon



Series: Royai kid [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Edwin kid, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Havolina kid, Post-Canon, Royai kid, headcanons galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-canon, these fics detail the humorous, tiresome, sometimes ridiculous, and (mostly) average lives of the hapless parents and the next generation. While Roy deals with the stresses of being Fuhrer, he and Riza also watch as their son grows up closely alongside Havoc and Rebecca's two children, Bran and Ally, not to mention Edward and Winry's rowdy bunch. The future is brighter than any of them could have ever hoped, but not without its obstacles. The normalcy almost seems strange after what they've gone through. (Not in chronological order.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. reliable with the ladies

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I just meant to reply an anon question, but it sort of turned into an accidental prompt? The question asked me to consider Roy's and Edward's reactions to Aidan asking one of Edward's kids out on a date. I started to think about it and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to write it and then I remembered how stupidsexymustang on tumblr and I were talking about writing a series about Aidan and Rebecca and Havoc’s kids since we have a bajillion headcanons about them – and then this kinda happened. It was supposed to be one scene. How did it end up like this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan's first dance is coming up, something he's not too excited about. According to Roy, his best chances of getting out of having to dance with girls is to bring a date to the dance. But who is he supposed to ask anyways?

Riza knew that something was up the moment her son laid a folded piece of paper on the table and stood silent as could be with his eyes averted to the ground. Aidan was naturally a quiet kid, something he’d obviously inherited from her since Roy could ramble on for hours, but he was at least open with her. Whenever he couldn’t meet her eyes or became fidgety, as he was now shifting on his feet, she knew that something was wrong.

Cautiously picking up the paper, she wondered if perhaps he’d gotten in trouble at school. It didn’t happen often, not unless he allowed Rebecca’s children to drag him into something, but it had happened. Riza snuck one last glance at Aidan, who was determinedly staring at his shoes, before flicking open the paper and reading it.

“Oh,” was the only thing to come out of her mouth.

Aidan’s cheeks flooded bright red.

Roy peered into the kitchen as he fixed the lapels of his uniform. “What’s in the letter?” He complained all the time that there was so much more to the uniform now that he was the Fuhrer, but it never stopped him from looking good, even now that he was in his late forties. It hit her while reading this letter just how old she was. Her son - their son - was growing up. “Don’t tell me he let Ally convince him to pull another prank.”

Riza looked up to her husband, an amused look on her face. “No, it’s a letter from his school  about the homecoming dance next weekend.”

“Homecoming dance?” Roy stepped fully into the room and fixed his son with a look. “If it’s next week, why is this the first time we’re hearing about it?” Aidan shrugged his shoulders, definitely avoiding looking at his parents now, his face still flushed. The poor boy was embarrassed. He had avoided telling them about it, most likely with the hope of avoiding the whole thing. He hated fancy events about as much as Roy did. “This is your first dance! You should be excited. We’ll go find you a nice suit tomorrow night. Luckily my sister Claire works at a nice shop too. Not to mention you’ll probably be the only boy that can dance. Every girl will be lining up to dance with you.”

“I don’t want to dance with every girl,” Aidan mumbled in a rush of words, clearly horrified by the prospect of being forced to dance all night long with the girls from his class. Riza couldn’t help but smile at that. He was a lot more like her in that respect (honestly in many more respects), but that seemed to confuse Roy. Why wouldn’t Aidan want to be the center of attention for a bunch of girls? The truth was Aidan didn’t like the limelight and never had; going from nobody to the Fuhrer’s son had been a struggle in itself.

And it only got worse as he got older.

Roy tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, there’s one way you can ensure that no one will dance with you.”

That caught Aidan’s attention. He looked up sharply to his father, his dark eyes shining with curiosity and maybe a hint of desperation. “How?” Hopefulness blossomed on his face, to the point where he missed the fact that a sneaky grin was working its way onto Roy’s face. Oh, Aidan, so lost in his own attempt to get out of this whole thing, he didn’t know what that look meant, not like Riza did.

“You get yourself a date,” Roy said, ruffling his son’s already messy hair. “You bring a date with you, dance with them all night, and you’ve effectively got yourself a shield.”

Aidan’s jaw dropped, all hope dashed from his face. “A date?”

“You should count yourself lucky,” Roy pointed out as he returned to fixing his uniform. “I’m the Fuhrer and bring your mother to events as my date and I’m still forced to dance with every woman that asks me.”

Leaning over to kiss Riza on the lips, he winked at them and then strode out of the room, leaving Riza sighing and Aidan staring off into the distance. Whatever he saw in the not-so distant future, it didn’t look good. A distraught expression was captured on his face as he tried to think of a way to get of this. She could see his mind working overtime the same way that Roy’s did. Whenever he did get in trouble with Bran and Ally, Havoc and Rebecca’s two kids, he was always the one that managed to get them out of hot water usually.

However, it appeared as if he couldn’t find one. He could tell Riza that he didn’t want to go. She would never force him to go. But he could also tell that Roy was genuinely excited about Aidan having his first dance. If there was one thing he truly hated, it was disappointing either of his parents in any way. The both of them could tell him it was fine and that it was his life, but he would never see it that way no matter what they said. Roy had already expressed his excitement, unintentionally settling things in his mind. Aidan could also feign sickness, but unless it was to help someone else, typically Bran or Ally, he didn’t like to lie. He was too much like his mother for his own good.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun,” Riza said as she set the letter back down on the table.

Aidan snatched up the letter and gave her a sour look. “Like you have fun at those galas and fundraisers with Dad?”

Well, he had her there. He was also too smart for his own good sometimes.

*

The week went by without much to say. As promised, Roy took Aidan shopping for a suit the next day. They hadn’t done that together since the wedding. It had been the first time they’d done something alone as father and son in public. Riza remembered how nervous Roy had been and Aidan’s own excitement. Despite the fact that he was reluctant to go to the dance, Aidan did come back home grinning lopsidedly and told her everything that they did. Unlike some thirteen year-olds, he seemed to enjoy spending time with his parents, perhaps because he’d spent the first four years of his life not having the both of them together.

However, when Roy broached the subject of finding a date, Aidan was at a complete loss. It didn’t matter to him that he was the Fuhrer’s only son and good-looking for his age. ( _ “He has my good looks, after all,” _ Roy pointed out cheekily.) He was still a teenager and teenagers were awkward as hell if nothing else. The prospect of asking a girl out, even if it was just for one night to a dance, made him terribly uncomfortable. To make matters worse, it appeared as if his best friend, Bran, had already found a date. Fourteen year-olds, according to Aidan, were way cooler.

“There isn’t a single girl at school that you have a crush on?” Roy asked over dinner.

Aidan picked at his food and shook his head mutely.

“What about Ally?” Riza pointed out. “You’re already friends, so you’re comfortable around her.”

A panic-stricken look crossed Aidan’s face, and it appeared as if his face didn’t know whether it wanted to blanch or blush. “Ally?” He blinked rapidly, twirling his fork in his fingers, until finally his face turned red and he began to shake his head. “N-no, Ally is like my sister. That would be weird.”

Well, Riza didn’t see why Aidan would react so terribly to her suggestion. He had known Ally since she was born, practically grew up with her. Maybe it did seem weird since he was best friends with her older brother, but they were friends too. They’d done sleepovers, went trick-or-treating together, played together, and everything. She thought that part of the reason Aidan was so hesitant over asking a girl to a dance was because he was uncomfortable around them. He could be a complete charmer when he wanted to be, but he wasn’t an overly outgoing kid. He was only extroverted when it suited him. Right now, that side of him was failing. She’d figured Ally going with him might bolster it again. She always managed to bring out Aidan’s more confident, extroverted side.

A more knowing look on his face, Roy watched his son as he ate his food. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Maybe it’ll be more fun going stag to the dance. You won’t be so tied down then.”

That didn’t seem to set well with Aidan at all, but after sighing, he began to eat again. Riza knew that it was a good sign. It meant that he’d made up his mind. She glanced at Roy, who waggled his eyebrows at her. She had a feeling that he knew something that she didn’t. She’d just have to pry it out of him later tonight. She had her convincing ways after all.

*

“Thanks for letting us stay for the weekend,” Edward sighed as he took the mug of tea from her and relaxed down on the couch. “It wouldn’t have been a problem finding a hotel room on such short notice, but--”

“But that’s nonsense,” Riza told him as she sat down across from him. “I’m sure you’ve plenty of talent in that area, but we have enough space to accommodate a small army. Two more people isn’t going to hurt us.”

Indeed, the Fuhrer’s house was larger than either of them liked. There were so many rooms that she didn’t know what they were supposed to do with half of them. At least she wasn’t forced to decorate them. Neither she nor Roy were the best at interior design. Even Aidan’s baby room at her old place had been decorated mostly by Rebecca. Roy hadn’t fully moved in until after they were officially engaged. He’d hated the idea of living alone in such a huge place. She only knew what to expect because of her time being held captive and forced to work under King Bradley.

“Plus,” Riza added as she glanced in the other room, “it’s nice to have visitors.”

The doors to the library were open, making the two occupants visible. Aidan was animated as he showed Sara Elric all his favorite books that had been left behind by old Fuhrers of the past. As his first daughter and second child, Sara looked very much like Edward, although her hair was a little lighter like Winry’s. She was also Aidan’s age, a sprite thirteen year-old, three inches shorter than Aidan. According to Edward, his oldest son Ben was blessed with Winry’s early growth spurt while Sara lagged behind like Edward once had. Because the two of them had grown up together, they often kept in contact, although they didn’t see one another as much as Aidan did Havoc’s kids.

“How long has it been?” Edward asked.

“Over a year,” Riza answered. “We came out for a weekend when Alphonse and May visited.”

Edward shook his head. “How they manage to travel so much with three kids is beyond me.” He pointed at his daughter, who was balancing precariously on a ladder trying to grab a book from a high shelf. “Sara’s got the same travel bug that I had growing up, always asks to join me when I go on trips to make a speech or something comes up with my work.” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “I keep thinking that she’s so young, but I was traveling on my own at her age. Why you and Mustang thought letting two kids run rampant was a good idea…”

“Oh, we didn’t,” Riza added with a light laugh. “But we didn’t have much an option either. There was no way that we could’ve kept you close by in Eastern. It was safer to keep you out of the higher up’s reach anyways.”

“We did a lot of crazy stuff back then,” Edward said, a distant look in his golden eyes.

Riza could understand how he felt very well. Whenever she looked at Aidan, she thought about all the things Edward had done at his age. State Alchemist at thirteen, technically a Major in the military, forced to carry out commands that Roy gave him, traveled around Amestris with only his little brother as his guide, determined to get their bodies back. That was a lot of pressure for a thirteen year-old kid. She considered it a blessing that Aidan’s only concern right now was school and the dance in two nights.

“How are you all anyways?” Edward asked curiously. “I read about the peace treaty with Drachma. I honestly never thought I’d see that in my lifetime.”

“Roy always has been more diplomatic than you gave him credit for,” Riza pointed out with a smile.

Edward snorted. “He’s still a bastard.”

“That’s Fuhrer Bastard to you, Fullmetal,” Roy proclaimed as he strolled into the room. Edward rolled his eyes. Unlike in the past though, there wasn’t a hint of anger in either of their actions. The banter would always be there, but the heat behind it was gone for the most part. “Insult the leader of your country one more time and I’ll be forced to put you out on the streets.”

“You wouldn’t do that to a kid, would you?” Edward questioned.

A smug grin crossed Roy’s face. “I only said that I’d kick you out. Sara can stay. She’s a sweet kid, unlike you, who has never been sweet in your life.”

As the two of them continued to trade barbed remarks at one another, Riza sat back and relaxed. She liked watching them like this, comfortable and at ease with one another. They easily switched from half-heartedly insulting one another to talking about the current political affairs that Roy was involved in and then to Edward’s research and his speech at the college downtown. It was of special note since it involved the State Alchemist Program. Both Roy and Edward had special stakes in it, especially Roy, who had spent the past fifteen years slowly fighting to change it.

“Uh, Uncle Ed?” Aidan’s voice interrupted.

The two men quit talking and all three adults focused their attention on the two children that had made their way into the room. Sara was smiling brightly while Aidan wore that same uncomfortable look that said he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here.

“What’s up, kid?” Edward asked.

Aidan cleared his throat, standing up straight, and spoke in such a strong and confident voice that contrasted his nervousness earlier. “Sara said that you two were going to be in town through the weekend, so I was wondering if you would allow Sara to come with me to my school’s dance Saturday night.” It was the perfect, eloquent request of a gentleman asking out a young lady. Riza could only imagine Roy saying the same thing when he was a teenager. Hadn’t he done that when he’d asked her to join him at a festival a town over?

“What?” Edward asked, like he hadn’t heard the question right.

“ _ What _ ?” Roy asked, like he had and didn’t believe it.

“Mom had a point the other night,” Aidan explained in a matter-of-fact voice. He didn’t seem to notice the shocked look on both men’s faces. “I should go with someone I’m comfortable with and know, but I don’t want to ask any of the girls at school. I’ve known Sara for forever and we’re friends. Plus, she’s never gone to a dance either.”

“Oh, please, Dad!” Sara exclaimed, rushing forward and grabbing Edward’s hands. He gaped down at his daughter, seemingly at a loss. “It’ll be so much fun! There’s supposed to be music, food, and games too. Aidan said he can give me a tour of his school since he really doesn’t want to dance much.”

“I…” Edward looked from his daughter’s pleading golden eyes to Roy’s wide dark ones. Aidan stood calmly, having not moved. Now that he’d made his decision, he appeared to be at ease. Roy couldn’t even manage to get a word out of his mouth. Out of all the girls for his son to ask to the dance, it was Edward’s? None of them could have ever anticipated that something like this would happen in their future. “What will you wear?”

When she saw Sara wilt as the thought crossed her mind, Riza chimed in, “I’m actually going out with Rebecca tomorrow. We were going to take Ally dress shopping and Bran some new shoes. Sara can come with this. It’ll give you and Roy time to compare notes on the State Alchemist Program.”

“Please, Dad!” Sara pleaded.

“We’ll be back as soon as the dance is over,” Aidan said. She had no doubt about that. He never broke curfew, mostly because it was somewhat impossible, what with all the guards surrounding the Fuhrer and his family.

Edward rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, what the hell? You can go.” As Sara cheered, kissing her father on the cheek and then bounding towards Aidan, Edward looked decidedly wary. He watched as Sara bounded towards Aidan, grabbing him by the arm, and unceremoniously dragging him back into the library. Once the two of them were out of earshot, Edward shot Roy a glare. “You’re lucky I know he takes more after Riza than you.”

“You’re acting like this is my fault?” Roy held his hands up in the air.

“Your son asked my daughter out on a date!”

“Very politely, I might add.”

Riza took a sip of her tea and glanced at the kids out of the corner of her eye. Aidan and Sara were back to rifling through the books, probably something on alchemy, completely oblivious to the fact that their fathers were currently arguing about them. “Aidan likely doesn’t see it as a date.”

“Not as girl-crazy as Mustang?” Edward scoffed.

“I was _ never _ girl-crazy,” Roy replied quickly. “For the last time, that was a cover, you dolt. I couldn’t exactly date the woman I wanted to date.”

“You two are worrying too much,” Riza said. “It’ll be fine. Let them have some fun.”

Both Roy and Edward folded their arms across their chest and mumbled under their breath, perfectly mirroring one another. Riza fought the urge to roll her eyes. Men, sometimes, were more difficult than children.

*

The idea of finding not one but two dresses put Rebecca into a near exhilarated frenzy. She was more than ecstatic to have another girl join them on their shopping trip, just as Bran was relieved that Aidan would now be joining them so he wasn’t the only boy. Although Sara was familiar with Bran and Ally and had met them quite a few times, she wasn’t nearly as close to them as Aidan was and vice versa. Sara still lived in Resembool while Aidan and the others lived in Central. And so Aidan had insisted on joining them, so that he could be the bridge between all the kids.

Times like these definitely reminded Riza that Roy was Aidan’s father. He already had a knack at smoothing things out and helping build relationships. If he ever decided to go into the military, he’d be good at it. For now though, he kept whatever dreams he had about his future to himself, though she knew that it would come up sooner or later. He was the same age as Roy was when he’d first started his alchemy apprenticeship with her father.

“Oh, what about this one?” Rebecca asked as she picked out a soft blue dress.

Ally immediately shook her head. Mother and daughter stared each other down, brown eyes against blue, before Rebecca put the dress back up and moved on. Riza noted that Ally was being strangely quiet. For all the excitement that had bubbled in her about the dance this whole week, she didn’t seem to be having any fun right now. She hung behind her mother, a slight frown on her face, and said no to almost everything. Her being quiet was what threw Riza off the most. Ally was very rarely quiet.

When Rebecca finally found a dress that seemed to appease her daughter, she wandered off to find an employee who could get the right size down. Ally stayed behind, sticking near Riza. Instead of watching her mother though, she was staring off towards where the other children were. Bran, Aidan, and Sara were crowded together looking at the collector cards in Bran’s hands. It was something all three kids were involved with, but apparently not Ally. She was the youngest one in the group, but only by a year.

It was also quite obvious that Ally was not just watching them play at something that excluded her, but that she was glaring at them as well. Out of the entire group, Ally was the most social. Bran could be quiet, though not as much as Aidan. Sara was bubbly and bright, but nowhere near as much as Ally, who took very much after Rebecca in her personality, if not her father in her looks.

“Are you feeling well, Ally?” Riza asked.

Ally glanced at her with sharp blue eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line. It was the same kind of look Havoc used to give whenever he was mad at Roy for “stealing” a girl that he had a crush on and would glower at the door to Roy’s interior office. The fact that she recognized that same look on his daughter would’ve made her laugh out loud if she was not sure that Ally would stomp away in anger, just as Havoc would when someone on the team pointed it out.

Before Riza could say anything further though, Ally exploded, unable to keep it in any longer. “Why did Aidan ask Sara to the dance?”

Riza quirked up an eyebrow. That was not what she had been expecting. She thought that maybe Rebecca giving attention to another girl was bothering her, not Aidan. “Well, he assumed that if he brought someone with him, he wouldn’t have to dance with other people.”

“That’s dumb,” Ally proclaimed flatly. “He could just tell girls that he doesn’t want to dance with them.”

“You know how he is,” Riza pointed out gently. “If a girl asked him to dance, he’d say yes, even if he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“Then I would tell them to leave him alone if he was too scared,” Ally said. Riza did smile at that. She could picture that all too well: Aidan standing off to the side, trying to appear invisible, when a girl shyly comes up to ask him to dance; before he could reluctantly say yes, Ally would pop up and tell girl off and shoo her away. She would protect him without even thinking even as Bran laughed. That was how they worked. They protected one another.

Bran came up with the ideas; Ally carried them out; and Aidan got them out of trouble somehow. Beginning, middle, end. Except now Ally was feeling left out of their group and perhaps even replaced.

Riza thought about that knowing look on Roy’s face and the strange way Aidan had reacted to Riza’s suggestion that he ask Ally out to the dance. He’d taken her advice in the end, but for a different female friend. “Did you want Aidan to ask you to go to the dance with him?”

“No!” Ally denied vehemently, but it was also too quick as well. Just like when Breda teased Havoc about having a crush on Rebecca back when they all worked in East City, years before everything went to hell. He had denied it then too with everything in his soul, even as his face turned bright red. “Whatever. I don’t care. He’s going with Sara now.”

“I’m sure he’ll still dance with you if you ask him,” Riza said in a gentle voice.

Ally shook her head. “I don’t want to dance with him.”

Sure she didn’t. Riza breathed out a sigh as Rebecca wound her way back to them, dress in hand. The two of them disappeared into the dressing room area so that Ally could try on the dress. By the time she was done and ready to step out, Aidan had returned to Riza’s side. Unlike Bran, who go fidgety on outings like this, it never seemed to bother him whatsoever. She thought it came with the times that he went out with Roy whenever he had to get a new suit or something tailored or how he and Riza always went shopping together. This was normal for him.

“Alright, let’s see it!” Rebecca called.

“I...I don’t know if I like it,” came Ally’s muffled response.

“Oh, just come on, Ally cat. I’m sure you look cute.”

The door slowly opened to reveal Ally. The dress had a floral top, a black belt that tied into a bow in the back, and a white skirt. Nothing too dressing, but still bright and colorful. Like Rebecca, she didn’t go for simple things. It was indeed a very cute dress and it fit her just fine. Ally was almost never shy, but as twelve, even she had her moments.

“Aw,” Rebecca gushed, “you look so adorable!”

Ally beamed, her earlier shyness and moody nature forgotten.

“I think you look very pretty, Ally,” Aidan stated. He wasn’t shy in his compliment either. To him, it was just a matter of facts and he sounded as such. Roy made jokes about how important it was to tell a woman that she looked pretty, but Aidan took the comments to heart. Growing up, he always told Riza that she looked pretty whenever she was dressed up.

However, it caused Ally’s cheeks to burn pink and she rushed to slam the door shut. While Aidan wore a quizzical look, confused as to what had just happened, both Rebecca and Bran laughed, knowing full well what was going on. Riza merely shook her head. How her son managed to twist Roy’s flirtatious behavior into something that resembled her personality was odd, but it never ceased to be amusing at least. Oh, the kids were certainly growing up and fast too. Right now, Aidan wasn’t really thinking of dating, but when he did…

**Well, Riza and Roy would cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, Riza was going to enjoy Aidan’s oblivious and awkward nature for as long as she could. **


	2. the smallest words (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan finds out the truth about why his mother left the military and some ugly truths about what people think of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on one of my headcanons on tumblr that I came up with about Aidan, I was literally unable to stop myself from writing this. In fact, the problem became that I wanted to write so much that it turned into a two parter, which I think works better. This was so much fun. I had a blast getting into Aidan’s mind, especially about something that had to be confusing as hell. There are a few references to an article from my fic “Hightlights” from my Hamilton-inspired drabbles series, "Who Tells Your Story?" as well. This is seriously one of the angstiest things I’ve ever written, but listen, this fourteen year-old boy has got some shit going on. I loved writing from Aidan’s perspective. It was fun to see Riza and Roy from such a different view. The Havolina kids, Bran and Ally, belong to the brilliant stupidsexymustang on tumblr, of course! Love them and her! Talking to her helped inspire me to write this.

People have treated him differently for his entire life. Bran says that he should be used to it by now, but Aidan can’t help but feel uncomfortable when people give him strange looks. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember, but then he does have a weird life. Not everyone can say that they’re the Fuhrer’s son. According to history, the Fuhrer before his great grandfather, King Bradley, had a son named Selim. Aidan wonders how he fared, being the son of the most important man in the country, if it made him feel like he was removed from everyone else or if he liked the attention that it garnered him.

Aidan decidedly doesn’t like it. His mom doesn’t either. They share that in common. His father, on the other hand, seems to glow in the spotlight. Aidan only likes the spotlight when it’s of his own choice and most of the time, what with who his parents are, it’s not. But this has been his life for so long. His parents are famous in Amestris for a lot of things. He’s their son. It’s only natural that people are curious about him.

He can only remember flashes of his life before his parents were married, but most of them only involve his mom. She’s always the constant in his memories of his earliest years. His mom hugging him, his mom smiling that secret smile of hers, his mom wrapping her body around his protectively when he crawled into bed with her and she was alone, his mom telling him how brave, strong, smart, kind he was. There are flashes of his dad here and there - letting Aidan sit on his lap in the car and pretend to drive, the flames he’d create while telling a dramatic story, the way he’d try to sneak up on his mom and always got caught.

But what Aidan mostly remembers about his father during the time before his parents married was his distance. It was almost desperate adoration in private and then a cold detachment in public. He did not hold Aidan. He did not take care of him when he tripped and fell. He smiled and made jokes, but they were the kind of interactions one did with their friend’s kid. His mom tried to make it a game, so when he always called his dad by the “correct” name, he got a treat or a little gift, like it was a prize.

_ “Congrats! You’re only three, but you didn’t make the mistake of calling out ‘Dad’ in public!” _

The confusing feelings stuck with him like irritating glue paste that you got stuck on your hands. His mom was always honest with him, but she kept mum on the details surrounding why things were the way they were. Eventually, when he was older, she explained some things: Ishval, their promise to right their wrongs, her promise to guard his father’s back until he reached his goals. That confused Aidan the most. If they loved each other, why couldn’t they be together and still do all those things like in the movies and books?

It’s a bit difficult to explain anti-fraternization laws to an eight year-old, now matter how bright they are.

Six years later, Aidan is a little wiser to why things went the way they did, but he was still ignorant and naive on some things. He was the kind of kid that dug into knowledge and poured all his efforts into something when he wanted to learn - but if he didn’t ask questions, then he didn’t know. He never outright asked his mom all those years ago why he had to refer to his father as “Mustang” or “General” or “sir”. He was “Mom’s boss” and that was that. He never asked why his mom left the military and later joined the private sector. Figured she’d tell if she wanted to and she never did.

So it’s something of a shock when he hears the name “Riza Hawkeye” in some older kid’s mouth in the school cafeteria. Confrontation is not one of Aidan’s favorite things in the world. He’s gone to long lengths to avoid some things in his life. However, if someone is talking about his mother, he’d like to know why. He immediately feels himself tense up, his hands gripping his tray tightly, as his eyes focus on the kid in question and he beelines it in that direction.

“Aidan?” Bran calls from behind him, but Aidan doesn’t respond. Not altogether too strange, considering that Aidan has a habit of getting lost in his thoughts, but Bran still follows him.

“Excuse me,” Aidan says, swallowing down any panic at confronting what looks like a senior, “but did I just hear you say the name ‘Riza Hawkeye’?”

The boy turns to look down at him and sneers. It’s the kind of sneer that says you’re the butt of a joke that went right over your head and they’re better than you. Aidan knows that kind of look. Ally would say that he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, but he’s a teenage boy and if he’s ever feeling particularly vicious or angry, he wears that exact sneer. He’s seen his dad wear it as well when he’s at work dealing with people he hates.

Aidan doesn’t back down or blink. If he wants to be the center of attention, then he can handle it.

“Yeah,” the boy replies. “What’s it to you, punk?”

“I’m--”

“That’s him!” a guy on the left exclaims. “That’s the Fuhrer’s son. Looks just like him. That’s how you know for sure that he’s his.”

The boy gives him a lazy lookover, looking unimpressed. “So you’re that whore’s son, huh?”

This time, Aidan does blink. He sees Bran walk to his side, quiet and frowning. That’s not like Bran, who is able to laugh at almost anything. “What?”

“I heard that your mom slept with your dad so that she could get promoted,” the boy claims. “Slept with a few other people too to keep things a secret. How do you think she was able to hide it for so long? How do you think she was able to support you after she got fired?” The boy laughs along with his friends. “I guess if you give good enough blow jobs, you can make it anywhere.”

Aidan has never been in a fight in his life. That’s usually Ally’s forte. She’ll attack anyone for slighting him or Bran in any way. She’s protective and tiny and very, very fast. She even bristles from behind him at the comments, ready to throw her tray at a boy that has over a foot on her. But she doesn’t get the chance. Because one second Aidan is watching as this guy laughs about his mom being a whore and the next his tray is falling to the ground and Aidan is physically launching himself at the asshole.

Just because he’s never been in a fight doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know how to fight. His mom taught him well. She’s had to fight all her life, being a woman in a man’s world. She fought men much bigger than her. She wanted him to learn how to defend himself. And so it’s something of a surprise when Aidan tackles the larger boy to the ground, hunkering over top of him, and connects a quick, well-placed fist to his face. Everyone jumps back, crowding around them in a circle, at a complete loss for what to do.

One punch, two punches, three--

He’s not an angry kid. Not wild like Ally can be at times if she’s upset or scary silent like Bran when he’s mad. Aidan is more likely to talk his way out of a fight. In all honesty, he’s more likely to figure out a way to get back at someone without resulting to violence. He doesn’t really argue and he doesn’t really yell and Bran laughs every time Aidan gets worked up enough to actually swear.

But this kid - this stupid, doesn’t-know-anything kid - said all those awful lies about the most important person in his life, the one person that has always been there for him, and Aidan just saw red.

“Aidan, stop!” someone that sounds like Ally shouts behind him.

Half of him wants to ignore her, keep laying into this boy, but he doesn’t ignore Ally. That’s not what he does. When someone says something to you, especially a woman, you’re supposed to listen. And it’s  _ Ally _ . Aidan pulls a fist back and hesitates for a moment, blinking down at the bloodied-nose boy underneath him and feels a shock of pain in his knuckles that lets him know just what he’s done. That hesitation is enough to give the boy time to take advantage, walloping Aidan in the side of the head and knocking him down. Before he can even get up, he gets a fist to the face and black spots burst in his eyes.

“You stupid, little bastard!” the boy yells at him, but before he can get another hit in, his friends drag him off. Aidan is still dizzy from the two blows as he sits up, rubbing his sore face. He can already feel the swelling under his hand. His first black eye probably. His mom was going to ground him until he graduated high school. “I don’t give a shit if you’re the Fuhrer’s son. I’ll beat your ass next time I see you!”

Ally is on Aidan in a flash, her hands on his face that he mumbles is okay. She shoots the older boy a venomous glare, not looking the least bit threatening since she’s a good four years younger. “Get gone, jerk!”

The boy snarls through the blood spilling from his nose. “Guess you’re like your dad after all - letting your whore, little girlfriend do all the work for you.”

If it wasn’t for both Bran and Ally holding him down, Aidan is almost certain that he would’ve scrambled to attack that kid again. Ally is thirteen, for god’s sake. Who is this asshole kid and what is his problem? Bran’s grip on his shoulder tightens for a second and Aidan knows that he’s trying to decide whether holding Aidan back is worth it, especially after the comment about his little sister. Ally is tense as well. She doesn’t take insults lightly. It’s in that moment, dizzy as he feels, that Aidan takes a deep breath and lets all that unexpected rage filter out of him. It slides away, as quick as it came, and he’s left feeling that confused, hollow feeling he gets in his gut every now and then.

“Forget him,” Aidan mumbles. “He’s not worth it.”

It might take the rest of the school year to figure something out, but Aidan will get back at him somehow. He’s his mother’s son, but he’s got a bit of his dad in him yet.

Ally bites her lip. “Oh, Aidan…”

A moment later, before any of them can say anything else, a teacher swoops in and Aidan is pried away from his friends. It’s his own fault. Aidan doesn’t even protest or explain why he did what he did. He punched a kid in the face multiple times. He broke some very fundamental rules. He deserves the punishment that follows. Definitely doesn’t mean he’s looking forward to it. Not the trip to the nurse’s office and then the principal’s, where the other boy is being spoken to on the other side of the door.

Instead of being attentive and listening carefully as the principal expresses his extreme disappointment and shock at Aidan’s behavior, he stares listlessly at his shoes. He can’t get that kid’s words out of his head. Is that what people think of his mom? Is that what people think happened? That she used her body to get promoted? That she somehow manipulated her boss into bringing her to the top? That she slept around with others to keep things quiet after he was born and later on to provide after she lost her job?

He thinks back to the earliest years of his life. There was only one man in her life. It was always Roy Mustang. There were always the assortment of “uncles” that he grew up with, men that his mom worked with, men that he knew he could trust. There was Uncle Ed, who joked that “Hawkeye is a saint for putting up with Mustang for this long, but crazy for loving the bastard.” There was his great grandfather, who they lived with briefly after his mom left the military.

Did she leave the military? Or was she discharged? Was she forced out? Was she fired? If she was, the orders would have come down through her great grandfather himself since he was the Fuhrer at the time. Aidan realizes with a start that he’s never asked her why she wasn’t in the military any longer. It was always, “Mom left the military,” not “Mom was dishonorably discharged from the military for breaking anti-fraternization laws with her superior officer.” And there are people out there that think that she is just some floozy that used herself and manipulated men to get where she wanted.

That her getting pregnant was either a mistake or a way to trick a man that was going to the top into marrying her.

Aidan’s stomach turns on its end. He’s vaguely aware of the principal asking him if he’s listening, but he can’t think anymore, much less speak. He feels himself closing up, the walls caving in over him, like he’s always done when he becomes too upset. He doesn’t normally get angry; he doesn’t normally get mean or violent. He just shuts down. He goes quiet, but not in that scary way Bran does that warns people he’s mad. A blank fog settles over him and he has to fight the childish urge to pull his knees to his chest and close his eyes. Instead, he sits still, eyes still downcast, and flatly says, “Yes, sir.”

“You’re a model student,” the principal tells him, “but there will be serious consequences for you, even if you are the Fuhrer’s son.” When Aidan doesn’t say anything in response to defend himself or to even get himself out of trouble, something which he would most certainly do in other circumstances, the man leans back and sighs. “You’re not going to try to explain yourself to get out of this? That’s...not like you.”

If people think that about his mom, what do they think about his dad? What do they think about him? Distant memories that feel like not-memories of reporters calling him a “bastard” flitter into his mind, reminding him of what that boy called him. A bastard child, an unplanned pregnancy that threw a wrench into his parents’ plans for the future, that eventually ruined his mother’s lifelong career perhaps in a bid to save his father’s. After all, he’s the important one, right?

The door behind him opens and the sound of heavy boots follows. Aidan doesn’t need to look back to know who it is, not from the way his principal practically rockets out of his chair, makes a formal bow, and says, “Sir.”

“I suppose you need a word with me before I take my son home?” Fuhrer Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, his father, asks by way of greeting.

The principal nods, looking more than a bit awkward. How to tell the leader of your country that their son is getting a few days’ suspension for getting into a fight in the cafeteria? Even worse, Aidan didn’t offer any reason for doing so, choosing to stay silent and lose himself in his mind.

“Step outside, Aidan.” There is familiarity in his voice, but no warmth, which lets Aidan know two things: one) he’s in trouble, and two) his dad is upset. When his dad’s gaze flickers to him, Aidan glances away from his shoes for the first time since sitting down. He meets his dad’s eyes, so much like his own, he sees that removed distance he came to associate with the man in his earliest years. It’s startling to see it again after all these years, even though he knows it’s because his dad has “business” with his principal and Aidan is in trouble, but it causes him to flinch and look away in shame anyways.

Nodding his head mutely, Aidan stands up and shuffles out of the room, closing the door behind him and sitting down on a bench. He’s not alone, seeing as how his dad can’t go traveling on his own, but he wishes he could’ve been. He can’t stand the way his Uncle Havoc is looking at him sideways. Havoc was there for him in ways that his own father couldn’t be in the very beginning. Bran is a lot like him, even if Ally looks more like him. Always ready with a funny quip and a quick laugh, the type of person that can bring warmth into the coldest of rooms. But Aidan doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want his Uncle Havoc. He doesn’t want his friends, who he knows will crowd him with questions later on. He doesn’t even want his dad, truth be told.

All Aidan wants, as pathetic as it sounds at fourteen years-old, is his mom.

Luckily, Havoc seems to know not to ask any questions, especially concerning the shiner that is starting to appear on his face, and Aidan doesn’t say a word. He sits in complete silence, not caring if it’s awkward. Havoc has known him for all his life; he knows about Aidan’s tendency to close in on himself when he’s upset. God, he’s probably had to deal with Ally complaining about him the few times he’s done it with her.

Ten minutes later, his dad strides out of the room and comes to a halt in front of him. Aidan looks up at his father and meets his eyes again. He can somehow tell from the way his dad twists his lips that he’s frustrated with Aidan for holding back and not giving anything away with his gaze. Aidan is good at that though. He’s good at hiding. He had to be growing up and he’s just now starting to figure out why. Havoc pushes away from the wall, arms still folded, and gives them both uneasy looks, feeling out of place between the silent communication (or lack thereof) between disappointed father and troubled son.

“I’m taking you home,” his dad finally says. It’s in such a final tone too, like Aidan could argue with him somehow. He doesn’t say home like it’s a good thing, more like it’s going to be his prison for the next week.

_ I don’t want to go home with you,  _ Aidan thinks for a wild moment. Where is his mom? Why isn’t she with his dad? She guards him too, though not as much anymore.

He doesn’t say anything though. He picks up his backpack, which Havoc must’ve gotten from his locker, and walks out of the office with his father and Havoc at his heels.

The ride home is filled with more terse silence. Havoc drives with both Aidan and his dad in the back. His dad would much prefer to sit in the passenger seat like normal, but the Fuhrer didn’t do that. It left them too open for a sniper shot. The backseats gave much better cover. Aidan looks out the window and watches everything pass them by, refusing to speak or even look to his father. Just as stubborn, his dad sits on the other side, alternating between flipping through paperwork that the call from school must’ve pulled him from and glancing to his son. Aidan can feel it when the man’s eyes are on him, but he acts like he doesn’t notice.

Once they’re finally home, Aidan moves to rush to his bedroom, where he thinks he’d like to stay for the rest of his life, when he feels a hand on his shoulder and stops mid-step. “Not so fast,” his dad says. “We need to talk.” He pulls his hand away and gives Aidan space, the kind he gives his mom whenever she’s mad at him for doing something very foolish and dangerous.

Knowing that there is literally nothing in the world that he can say to get out of this for once - that there’s no tricking a trickster - Aidan turns around and simply says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” The frown on his dad’s face can’t be any deeper, but instead of anger like Aidan originally expected, there is more confusion in his eyes than anything else. “Aidan, you got into a fight in school during lunch.  _ You broke his nose _ . Quite frankly, the only reasons you’re not getting more than a week’s suspension are because the other boy wouldn’t say why you attacked him and you’re the Furher’s son. What in the hell got into you?”

“The Fuhrer’s son,” Aidan bites back without even thinking, which he never does. “It does sound nice, doesn’t it? Looks good on paper too. A charming man with his lovely wife and well-behaved son.”

The caustic words cause his father to actually straighten up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aidan doesn’t know. He isn’t thinking straight. He tries to formulate the right words in his head - get things straight before he speaks, like he always does - but for some reason, he just can’t. He keeps hearing that boy’s words and then his mind races to his earliest memories, days when it was just him and his mom. Just Aidan and Riza Hawkeye. They changed his surname legally after the marriage. But there was a time when he wasn’t the Fuhrer’s son - when he wasn’t Roy Mustang’s son - when he wasn’t a Mustang - when he had to play pretend that he didn’t know the words “Dad” or “Father”.

He remembers the old newspaper article he stumbled over when he was eight, which prompted the first time he asked his mom about why she and his dad didn’t get married until he was four. He didn’t understand it then and largely forgot about it after, not really caring, but now it comes roaring back to him full blast, screaming in his head like some tornado warning. Words about  _ “Mustang’s playboy ways”  _ and his mom being a  _ “simple-minded floozy” _ and then the statement,  _ “Bastard orphan begets bastard child.” _ When he closes his eyes, he can see his mother’s stricken face when he asked in a childishly curious tone,  _ “What’s a bastard?” _

Technically speaking, he was a bastard.

Is that what people think of him when they see him now? Or did they forget their judgemental thoughts in light of the charming First Family?

“Hey, listen to me,” his dad says in a much gentler tone, “you can talk to me. You know that, right?” Aidan loves his dad - swears he loves him - and he knows that he can talk to him - he knows that - but he doesn’t want to. He wants to talk to his mom. She was always there for him. His dad, Mustang, wasn’t. “I freaked out when I heard you got into a fight. That’s not like you, Bug.”

He’s fourteen years-old, too damn old for the nickname that his dad gave him when he was born, but it’s not the fact that he’s old that causes him to step back. It’s the nickname. He almost never called Aidan by his name, just referred to him as a little “Bug”. It was supposed to be their inside joke since Aidan couldn’t call him “dad” - to let him know that his dad still cared. But it just reminds him of all the times his dad wasn’t there. It makes him think of the times when he wanted to rush into his dad’s arms, like Bran did with Havoc, but instead was forced to cling to the back of his mother’s legs.

Mustang puts a hand on his shoulder again. “You know I’m here for you, right?”

“You weren’t always,” Aidan says quietly. Before the man can say anything in response, Aidan pulls away from him, stumbling, and shakes his head when Mustang reaches out to steady him. “It was just me and Mom for so long and it was stupid and it hurt her, but she was always so happy and strong for me. She was there for me. You just showed up when it was convenient for you.” He clenches his fists at his side. “I guess picking me up today was just another inconvenience for you though, kind of like my birth.”

The panicked and fearful look in Mustang’s eyes mirrors the feelings swallowing up Aidan so much that it makes him want to lock himself up for weeks. Why couldn’t he have looked more like his mom? Maybe it would’ve been easier to hide his parentage then - easier to hide him, the truth, their dirty little secret - and she never would’ve been kicked out of the military or hurt or abandoned. That’s how it felt to him now. Sure, Mustang was here and they were one, small, happy family, but it was out of pure luck. What if Mustang hadn’t been appointed Fuhrer after his great grandfather stepped down? How long would they wait or would they simply give up on the idea of ever being a family?

How long would his mom had to have suffered alone?

“Aidan…” Mustang seems to struggle to find the right words to say. It appears as both of their normal silver tongues somehow vanished. “You have never been an inconvenience. You’re my son. I wanted to be there for you all the time - God, I did - but Riza, she… She wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t let me go back on my promise and I couldn’t do that to her, not after all that I’d done.”

“You don’t know what it was like,” Aidan insists, rubbing at his eyes. Tears prick at them, but he refuses to let them out. Not that he doesn’t get sad or that he thinks it’s a sign of weakness - he’s just never been a crier. “You weren’t there. You can’t possibly know about the nights I couldn’t sleep and I’d go to the bedroom, telling myself that you’d be there so you could tell me a story, but then you weren’t. And then - she was so quiet, but I could hear Mom crying.” His mom never cried in front of him. She is strong and brave and stalworthy. But everyone gets lonely and everyone has their weaknesses, even superheroes. “I always tried to leave before she knew I was there, because it scared me to see her like that, but she always heard me and she’d act like nothing was wrong. But it was wrong. It was all wrong.”

Mustang stands up straight and runs his fingers through his messy hair. Aidan has to fight the urge to do the same thing. He does it whenever he’s nervous or upset, both of them do. “I never wanted it to be like that. I ran myself ragged to get where I am now as fast as I could so I could right that wrong as well.” He lets out a mirthless laugh. “It seems my life is just a circle of righting wrongs I’ve committed.”

“I was a wrong too, wasn’t I?” Aidan asks in a pitiful voice.

As quick as lightening, Mustang’s face goes white. “Shit, Aidan, no, definitely not, you’re not-- God, finding out your mother was pregnant was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. I didn’t think I could be that happy.”

“But I was an inconvenience,” Aidan says, spiraling into all the insecurities that were perhaps building up since he could remember. “I threw a wrench into your plans. I messed everything up. I hurt Mom. If it wasn’t for me, you never would’ve had to sneak around so much. If I hadn’t been born, Mom wouldn’t have been kicked out of the military. You might not have been able to become Fuhrer. You and Mom… You all could’ve been alone forever.”

Stepping forward, Mustang bends down to reach for Aidan again, but he takes another step back. A flash of hurt crosses Mustang’s face, one that Aidan recognizes quite well. It is the same look that Aidan wore whenever Mustang wouldn’t pick him up as a toddler or the one Mustang would make after the proposal and marriage when Aidan still referred to him as something other than “Dad”. Old habits die hard, his mom would say, when she’d accidentally do the same thing. Except they laughed when she did it.

“None of that was your fault,” Mustang tells him firmly but not unkindly. “It was us, our burden to shoulder, our consequences to face.”

Something ugly bubbles to the surface of Aidan’s mind. He’s not a mean person - everyone says so, that he’s really one of the nicest boys ever - but there have been a few times when some awful twist comes over him. He’s more like his mom, but he thinks he gets that side of him from his dad. It’s vicious and hurtful, but he feels hurt and he angrily wants someone else to hurt as much as him.

His father is an easy target.

“But you didn’t face any consequences, did you?” Aidan proclaims in a cold voice, so straightforward and sharp. “You got away with it - just a slap on the wrist - while Mom got cast out by a thing she’d devoted her entire life to, nearly died for time and time again, just because of one little mistake.” The word “mistake” tastes bitter on his tongue, because it’s him. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? "You got to keep the fancy title, all the prestige, the money while Mom got harassed and discarded and hurt even more. As if the military didn’t hurt her before - as if you didn’t.”

Deep down, Aidan knows that while it’s all technically the truth, it isn’t at the same time. His mom told him so many times while growing up that his father loved him. Things were complicated, especially between Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. They could write a book on complicated relationships and have some leftover for a sequel. He knows that his father didn’t deliberately abandon them - that he wanted to be there for him - that he wanted to be a father and husband to them.

But in this moment, Aidan doesn’t care. He just wants Mustang to hurt as much as him. He’s his father’s son in the end; Aidan knows how to hurt him. Riza is both of their weaknesses. Must be a Mustang thing.

“She had people spit at her and look down on her while they gave you praises and respected you,” Aidan continues, unable to stop himself, the tears coming now. That kid at school called her a whore. How many other people had done that same thing over the years while she just took it without complaint? What kind of man lets that happen to the woman he loves?

Mustang looks on horrified, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, frozen in a panicked state. Finally, something manages to stun the man into silence and it’s his own son. It’s like something has snapped inside of him. Maybe it’s because Aidan is saying all the things he feared and kept bottled in his mind. All those years and Aidan never once acted like he was mad about how things were like before his parents married, never demanded answers, never was resentful. Ten years later, Aidan is throwing all of his nightmares back into his face.

“You got everything while she got  _ shit  _ on endlessly and you weren’t there for her. You didn’t protect her. Where were you, huh? You left her; you left us all alone.” Aidan is crying now. Fourteen years-old and he’s crying in front of his father. How pathetic, right? It makes him so damn angry. He just wants his mom. He feels so small and worthless. He couldn’t protect her back then either. He can’t even protect her now that he’s older and almost a man. “You were so selfish and such a fucking coward and she got hurt so much. Why weren’t you there?”

As if the floor has literally been pulled out from underneath him, Mustang staggers backward and collapses into a chair. He leans forward, hiding his face in his hands. They aren’t gloved. Aidan always notices if they are or not. His fingers dig into his hair and pull hard. Aidan swallows down a gulp of air, the breath shuddering in his chest, but it causes the tears to stop. The crying fades away from him, but he can’t stop shaking, his body and mind buzzing with so much energy and emotion that it’s almost too much to take.

A crash from behind makes him jump and Aidan whips around to see his mother standing there, a broken mug at her feet, tea soaking into the carpet. She’s the strongest person he knows, but she looks so vulnerable in a bathrobe and slippers. That’s when Aidan remembers why Havoc was with Mustang today. His mom has been sick for the past few days and stayed home. Her brown eyes are filled with so much unfiltered hurt and Aidan realizes that he caused that. The realization hits him like a stab in the chest.

Just like Mustang, just like those assholes in the military and media, Aidan hurt her too.

His mother opens her arms, welcoming him into a warm hug that he craves more than anything, but Aidan stumbles away from her, shaking his head, muttering, “no, no, no,” repeatedly under his breath. He can’t look at his mom. He can’t look at his dad. He doesn’t blame his mom for the past, but a tiny part of him wants to blame his dad. After all, didn’t he get everything he wanted while she lost it all? After everything, all she had left was her bastard son, whose birth made her life difficult and eventually ruined everything.

“Aidan, please…” Mustang begs one last time. He does not sound like the Fuhrer of Amestris.

“You weren’t fucking there,” Aidan says in a shaky voice. His eyes take one last sweep of the room - his mom’s hurt yet understanding eyes, his father’s broken-hearted face - and then he runs out of the house. He hears his mom’s shouts calling after him, Mustang’s warnings for someone to watch him. God forbid he be left unattended.

Snatching up his bike that he left in the expansive front yard yesterday, Aidan hops on, nearly falling over in his rush, but once his foot is on the peddle, he’s flying down the driveway. He almost runs over Breda as he passes through the gate, not even bothering with an apology for making the man dive out of the way. The hand that he used to punch the other boy aches from the tight grip on the handlebar and his face aches from where he was hit, but he ignores all that as he rides. Rain starts to pour down a minute later as he tears through the city, the tires of his bike splashing through quickly growing puddles and his hands and feet slipping, but he doesn’t stop.

If he stops, he’ll start thinking, and if he starts thinking… He doesn’t know what will happen. He feels like he’ll be crushed by the weight of everything. He just wants to go back to this morning when he didn’t have to worry about all these things and wonder if there was ever a moment in his parents’ lives where they regretted him. Aidan pedals as fast as he can, his legs throbbing, his lungs burning, his hands aching, and he doesn’t care and he doesn’t stop. If he stops, he’ll want to go home and say he’s sorry and that he’ll never complain about doing the dishes again. He’ll be good. He’ll be so good.

**And they’ll never regret him. **


	3. the smallest words (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smothered by his own fears about his role in his parents' lives, Aidan goes to hide at the one other place he knows that he can find comfort: Havoc and Rebecca's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I had to get this out of my mind before I exploded, here is the second part. I wrote it tonight after I took an unexpected hour nap. The tables have turned on my poor, sweet Aidan, who is suffering from a lot of complicated feelings right now. This has to be a lot for one kid to process. Thank you all so much for reading! It’s been a blast writing this and has made me love my OC more, tbh. Dedicated to stupidsexymustang on tumblr, who inspired me all day today about our kids. Everything about the Havolina kids belongs to her!

Hours after the fight with his father (was it a fight when Mustang barely even argued back?), Aidan finds himself standing on the doorstep of his Uncle Havoc and Aunt Rebecca’s house. It’s much smaller compared to his own, considering he lives in the Fuhrer’s mansion, but it has never lacked for warmth or love. He’s spent what feels like half his life in this home, considering that it belongs to his godparents and his best friends live here. It’s probably why he’s here now, soaked to the bone, shivering under the steady rain, craving that warmth that he knows he’ll get. They won’t turn him away and he doesn’t want to go home.

Shame settles in his stomach, making him feel sick. It was difficult enough to come here since he knew that his parents most likely called them. He can’t go home though, not yet. He’s shaking near uncontrollably; he hasn’t eaten since eight this morning; and he’s so very tired. But home isn’t an option. He doesn’t think he can face his mom right now and he doesn’t want to look at his dad. He honestly don’t know how he feels beyond tired, cold, wet, and hungry.

Black hair plastered to his head, face pale, clothes sticking to his skin, Aidan raises a shaky hand to knock on the door and waits patiently. The door is jerked open to reveal his Aunt Rebecca, her curly brown hair wild, and the look on her face turns from concern to shock. She wasn’t expecting him, maybe expecting his mom. Before he can even say anything or change his mind and book it again, Rebecca shouts, “Oh my god!” and drags him inside.

“Um,” Aidan says, his brain unable to come up with anything, “do you have any soup?”

It’s dumb and he honestly doesn’t know why he said it, but it was the first thing to pop into his head and it slipped out of his mouth before he could even think about it. Rebecca’s lip wobbles as she gazes down at him, like she’s about to cry or wallop him upside the head whenever Havoc makes a dirty joke around the kids, but instead she nods her head and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug.

After she lets him go, everything turns into a whirlwind. Rebecca shoves him around the house, talking a thousand miles an hour, not letting him get anything in word-wise. Ally does the same thing to him and he’s never minded. He’s kind of grateful for it now because he doesn’t want to talk.

“My god, you’re absolutely drenched. Have you been out in the rain this entire time? You’re freezing! What if you catch a cold? Oh, you’re bleeding! Bran told me that you got into a fight in school and Riza called to explain, but he didn’t say you were bleeding. Did you fall? Have you eaten anything since breakfast? Go to the bathroom and get out of those clothes. Bran, grab something dry for him to wear while I get a blanket! Oh my god, Aidan, you scared everyone half to death.”

Before Aidan even knows it, he’s shoved unceremoniously into the bathroom with a pair of shorts, boxers, socks, and a t-shirt along with a towel. Now that he’s in the quiet by himself again, he feels his thoughts start crowding in on him again, making the bathroom uncomfortably small, and he changes quickly. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that running off like that scared his mom. He’s not supposed to be alone like that, not since he’s the Fuhrer’s son. It’s dangerous. He could be kidnapped or hurt, anything that could be used as leverage against the Fuhrer. It’s not like him to get so overly worked up and emotional like this. His mom probably worried that he’d hurt himself.

Catching a glimpse of his reflection causes him to flinch. There’s definitely a shiner now, that side of his face swollen since he never bothered icing it. Blood slips down his nose and a cut on his cheek from where he indeed fell off his bike. Apparently, riding a bike in the rain is kind of dangerous. Grabbing some toilet paper, he does his best to clean his face, but short of stuffing the paper in his nose, it doesn’t do much.

When he opens the bathroom door and peers out, he spots Rebecca in the kitchen on the phone. She’s muttering, but he can tell from the way she’s wrapping the cord around her finger that she’s talking to his mom, letting her know where he’s at. His stomach drops. What if they come to pick him up? How much trouble will he be in now? All the times he followed the rules and he shattered them without a second thought in one go.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Havoc greets, an easy-going smile on his face. “Let’s get you patched up, huh?”

While Aidan sits still on the toilet, his eyes on the ground, Havoc sits on the edge of the bathtub across from him, a first aid kit on the counter sink. Havoc does what he can for the shiner, instructing him to ice it afterwards, and then cleans up the cuts, applying antiseptic which makes him wince, getting his nose to stop bleeding, and then putting a bandaid on the cut on his cheek. Havoc frowns at his bruised up hand, but no bones appear to be broken and there aren’t any cuts, so it’s just icing that as well.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Aidan says after minutes of silence. It’s not like him to break silence, especially when he’s in one of his moods, but Havoc isn’t normally this quiet and it kind of throws him off.

Havoc chuckles. “I’ve got a lot of self-practice.”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Rebecca says as she looks inside. “I wouldn’t advise following him in that direction.” Havoc gives her a little grin to which she rolls her eyes. “I heated up some soup for you. Bran and Ally are already in the kitchen eating dinner.”

Nodding his head, Aidan says, “Thank you,” and ducks out of the bathroom. Upon meandering in the kitchen, where Bran and Ally are like Rebecca said, he finds the table topped with spaghetti and garlic bread and then a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of a chair in between the two kids. He realizes with a start that his aunt went out of her way to make him something different to eat because he asked. It makes him want to hide again. He doesn’t want this kind of attention.

“Hey, man, you look like shit,” Bran announces.

“I feel like it, too,” Aidan grumbles as he sits down and picks up a spoon.

“How are you–?” Ally cuts herself off, hand outstretched to touch his face, but she hesitates and then pulls back. He can’t tell if he’s grateful for the lack of physical contact or if he wishes she’d kept going, so he merely digs into the soup and forces it down. He was hungry earlier, but for some reason, now that it’s right in front of him, he can barely find the desire to eat.

Unable to take the silence, even though it’s what he’s always been most comfortable with, Aidan does the only thing he can think of: he deflects. It’s one of his better skills. “Sorry for going crazy like that at school. I hope I didn’t scare you or anything.” He can talk about the school incident; he cannot talk about the home incident.

“Scare me?” Bran laughs. “If I’m ever scared of you, then there is seriously something wrong with me.”

“You could never scare me,” Ally insists.

Aidan furrows his brow. “Well thanks for the vote of confidence.”

After twirling spaghetti around a fork, Bran uses it to point at Aidan and wave it in his face. “That guy was a dick. He deserved a few good punches to the face. I honestly didn’t know you had it in you. Kinda impressed me honestly.”

“Everyone was talking about it at school after you left,” Ally adds. That makes Aidan groan. The last thing he wants is for more people to be talking about him. Isn’t that how this whole mess started? “He was trying to tell people that he kicked your butt, except no one believed him since he looks like he got hit by a truck.” She smiles at him. “Some kids said that you were a badass like your dad.”

Despite their attempts to cheer him up, that only makes Aidan groan even more and drop his head onto the table. Bran laughs some more, which makes Ally throw a hand towel at him. It’s not a mean-spirited laugh though. Both of them know that Aidan doesn’t like being the center of attention unless he asks for it, but they also don’t know that he really doesn’t want to be compared to his father right now. It feels like a punch to the gut. Besides, even though he knows just how powerful his dad is with his alchemy, he’s always seen his mom as the more badass type.

Why don’t people say such good things about her?

When he feels a pat on his leg, he looks over to see Ally still smiling at him. He gives her a weak smile in return and she pulls her hand away from him. She might not know exactly what he’s thinking right now, but he still appreciates the gesture nonetheless. There aren’t a lot of people that he’s comfortable with concerning physical interaction, but she’s one of them, everyone here really. They’re an affectionate family after all.

Rebecca and Havoc stride into the room with her leading the way. Havoc looks a little sheepish, the way he looks whenever they get into a disagreement and he’s proven wrong. As she sits down at the table, Rebecca says in a cheerful voice, “Why don’t you stay the night here, Aidan? It’s really late, after all, and tomorrow isn’t a school night. It’s been awhile since you all have had a sleepover.”

Aidan looks at both of the adults as he quickly assesses the situation. One) Rebecca and Havoc discussed this and Havoc most likely thought it best if they take Aidan home since his mom and dad were worried; two) him staying the night is Rebecca’s idea, which is what she’d probably been talking about over the phone earlier, hence her nervous body language; and three) both of them definitely know about the argument Aidan had with Mustang, but they’re acting like they don’t for his sake. They’re trying to pretend like this is just friends hanging out instead of son avoiding his parents.

They’re both good at field work, according to his mom and dad, but they’re not so good around kids. Both of them tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Oh, we could pull mattresses into the living room and watch scary movies!” Ally exclaims excitedly, already taken with the idea. Aidan hates the idea of them coddling him like this, but he can’t handle going home yet either. Besides, a few good scary movies will distract him from the events today.

“You better not get too scared and refuse to sleep with the lights off again,” Bran warns.

Ally turns pink in the face. “I didn’t do that!”

“I’ll make some brownies for dessert,” Rebecca adds, that bright smile still on her face.

Now Aidan knows for sure that his aunt knows what went down and is trying to make him feel better without him knowing it. She never makes sweets this late because Bran and Ally have awful sweet tooths and will stay up almost all night if they eat anything with too much sugar in it. They’ve done enough middle of the night cookie jar raids for Aidan to know this about his best friends.

Even though he knows all of this, even though he can see through the charade for what it is, like he isn’t sitting at the dinner table in clothes that aren’t his with a black eye and a bandaid on his face, Aidan is nothing but indulgent to the adults in his lives. Besides, he’s put enough people through hell and worried them today, hasn’t he? It’s high time he start acting like normal again and stop being such a whiny brat. “Sounds fun, Aunt Becca.” He doesn’t understand how kids can get into fights with their parents or anyone else so often. It’s exhausting.

After dinner is finished, Aidan insists on helping Bran do the dishes since it’s his turn for the week. He washes them while Bran dries them, knowing that he prefers that role. Ally helps Rebecca with the brownies, occasionally shooting them glances. The two of them talk about school things that aren’t related to the fight, normal stuff, like it’s just an average night. There’s the JROTC program that Bran has been considering joining and the alchemy club that Aidan has avoided like the plague, much to his friend’s confusion. Both of them tried out for the baseball team, though it’s a long shot that Aidan will make the cut. Bran is definitely the more athletic of the two of them.

“Maybe you should do boxing,” Bran quips after the last dish is put up, the closest he gets to bringing up the fight.

“Ha, very funny,” Aidan replies dryly, shoving him to the side.

By the time they’re done, Havoc has already transformed the living room into basically an indoor campsite. With the coffee table set in the kitchen, the large mattress from the spare bedroom and Bran’s mattress are pushed together on the floor, covered in a multitude of blankets and pillows. He stands in the middle of it, hands on his hips, looking quite proud of his accomplishment. It looks just like they did back when they were little kids. The throwback to his childhood reminds Aidan of his dad calling him by his old nickname “Bug” and his stomach sours.

“Sure this isn’t too kiddish for you?” Aidan asks, feeling insecure. After all, they’re fifteen and fourteen. It’s a little old for sleepovers in the living room set up by their parents, isn’t it? He both craves it and dislikes it at the same time.

“Are you kidding me?” Bran responds before launching onto the mattress, throwing pillows into the air. “I get to eat brownies at ten, stay up stupid late, and watch Ally scream herself silly while you point out everything illogical in the plot. This is awesome.”

And people say that Aidan has a weird sense of humor.

While Bran rushes to change into pajamas, Aidan attempts to pick out a movie. He generally leaves that decision up to one of them, but Bran insisted. After finding what looks like the scariest one to him, one about a demon-possessed house, he settles back and waits by himself. Havoc gives him a long sideways look, but doesn’t say anything, just like he did at school when he and his dad came to pick him up. He can tell that it’s more difficult for him to not ask any questions this time because they’re outside of the professional setting and in the comforts of home. Aidan doesn’t know if he’d answer even if Havoc did ask anything.

Bran returns quickly, ruffling Aidan’s still drying hair, and then starts the movie so that he can watch the previews. It’s not long before Ally and Rebecca shuffle into the room, Ally holding a plate of brownies and Rebecca balancing three glasses of milk in her hands. Ally’s in her pajamas, matching pants and a button up shirt, the kind of pajamas a kid wears when they want to look grownup. Her cheeks look a little pink too, but it could’ve been from the heat of the oven in the kitchen while they baked.

“Alright, you kids have fun,” Havoc announces. “Only bother us if it’s a real ghost. Some people have to get up early in the morning.”

Ah, that’s right. His mom is off for another two days, so it’s up to Havoc to pick up Mustang from the mansion. His dad liked to mock-complain about the Fuhrer never getting weekends off. Rebecca kisses Ally on top of the head; Bran ducks the action while Aidan sits still and doesn’t fight back. She gives him one last careful look - the kind of look that an adult gives to a child that says, “You can talk to me if you want” - and Aidan smiles blandly back at her - the kind of look he gives when he doesn’t want to talk.

It’s not rude, he tells himself, if he’s smiling.

After Havoc and Rebecca leave them alone, the three kids grab some brownies and milk and settle into their spots on the mattresses. As usual, Aidan is in the middle. Everyone jokes about how they always end up sitting according to age and even height without even realizing it. Once the movie starts though, they all go still and focus on the television.

The movie is, predictably, illogical as all get out. Aidan has to fight the urge to point out things, not wanting to ruin the moment for Ally, who is completely absorbed by it, brownie forgotten half the time while she watches with wide eyes and an open mouth. On more than one occasion she ends up jumping and letting out a squeak, one time sloshing milk all over his arm. Bran laughs more than anything, finding some of the ridiculous stuff funny, especially the demon monster, which makes Ally hush him and throw a pillow at him.

Nonetheless, Aidan finds himself getting lulled by the movie. If he focuses on the movie, he doesn’t have to think about what happened in the past. If he watches as Ally and Bran bicker with each other, he doesn’t have to think about the fight with his dad. If he pays attention to the way Ally gasps and repeatedly smacks him on the arm when she’s nervous or how Bran will laugh or jump at a scary moment and pretend like he didn’t, he doesn’t have to think about the painful fears haunting him in the back of his mind. The demon on the tv doesn’t seem as scary as all that.

Bran picks the second movie, this one about a serial killer stalking some tourists at a beach resort. It’s not as scary, in Aidan’s opinion, but the scenery is nice. When Aidan says that out loud halfway through the movie, Bran laughs so hard that he snorts milk out of his nose, which sends both Ally and Aidan into a fit of giggles. At some point when the killer is chasing down one of the girls in the movie, Ally goes to grab his hand and grips it tightly, but he winces and jerks away since it was the hand he punched that boy with earlier.

Ally slides away from him, a flash of hurt crossing her face, but then Aidan holds up his messed up hand to let her know why he suddenly pulled away from her and mouths a “sorry”. He doesn’t want her to think that he pulled away from her because he doesn’t want to hold hands with her while she’s scared. She smiles shyly at him when he reaches over with his good hand and takes hers, even though it’s a somewhat uncomfortable and awkward angle. Soon enough, she’s lost in the movie again and squeezes his hand every time she yelps in fear. At this rate, both of his hands are going to be bruised in the morning, but he doesn’t mind. The simple comfort fills his belly with relief.

By the time the movie is over, Bran is snoring away, having fallen asleep ten minutes before it ended, a smudge of chocolate smeared on his face near his open mouth. He’s rolled himself into a burrito in the corner of the mattresses, leaving plenty of space between him and them. Ally rolls her eyes at him, but then lies back down.

“Did you want to watch another movie?” Aidan asks.

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re the guest.”

“This is your house.”

Ally smacks him on the arm again and Aidan gives her a little lopsided smile. She doesn’t seem as scared as she was the last time they all watched horror movies, but then he does catch her warily eyeing the dark hallway before looking back up at the ceiling. Aidan lies down next to her, though he leaves a proper amount of space between them so that they aren’t touching. Even when they did this when they were kids, he was like that, always needed his space when he slept. He let Ally jump on him and Bran ruffle his hair and stuff all the time, but then he retreated back to his bubble. His mom is the same way, always has been, according to his dad.

She wasn’t that way with him and he wasn’t that way with her. Growing up, he seemed to always crave Riza’s touch, wanting to be held by her, have her attempt to smooth his hair down, cuddling in bed when he had a nightmare, holding her hand whenever they walked somewhere. Not so much anymore obviously, but he doesn’t mind it when she hugs him before he leaves for school or the way she’ll still fuss over his hair at times.

Thinking about his mom now reminds him of what he’s been avoiding for the past three hours and the heavy and sudden feeling of missing her and wanting her around now damn near crushes him. He wonders if she’s still awake, sitting on the couch and drinking tea, thinking about him and worrying, or if maybe the flu medicine she’s been taking knocked her out after she struggled to stay awake for hours waiting for him. He hates that he worried her, hates that he somehow managed to hurt her when all he wanted to do was protect her. He couldn’t stand hearing anyone talk about her that way, not when she did everything for him.

Is he a bad son for all of this? He has to be, he thinks. He yelled at his dad about things he knows that were honestly out of his control, but even then, he still feels mad about the whole thing. His mom was alone for so long, even before Aidan was born. Everyone talked about how his parents had some epic love story, but the fact was that she spent nearly half of her life alone. He remembers those jabs in that article about his dad being a playboy and thinks about his “sisters” at his grandmother’s workplace. His grandmother teased his dad about how all his dates were fake, but how many of them weren’t? He had to actually date around to make sure people dismissed him as such.

Aidan doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about all of this now. He’s never been mad at Mustang before, not even when he was a kid. The man was distant in public with him, but he wasn’t cruel or cold. And he knows, as his mom told him time and time again, that there were a bunch of reasons why Mustang wasn’t there all the time. _“It was my choice,”_ she told him back when he was eight. _“It’s for the best,”_ when he was three, _“It won’t be forever.”_

But was it really? She willingly gave herself up, put herself on the chopping block, became a public pariah, all for the sake of one Roy Mustang. Whether or not she was at the top with him when he got there was inconsequential. Him becoming Fuhrer wasn’t just for prestige - Aidan always felt proud about the fact that all his parents’ goals were created with the purpose of helping people, especially those that couldn’t help themselves - but it’s hard to ignore all the perks when they’re right there in your face.

His mom sacrificed herself for his dad - and for him as well. The beginning of her end could all be tied back to him. How different would her life had been if she hadn’t gotten pregnant? She’d probably be a Colonel, still well-respected and looked up to, called the “Hawk’s Eye” instead of a “whore”. Guilt flares hotly in his mind.

“Aidan…” Ally says quietly, just when he thought she fell asleep. “I overheard Mom talking on the phone while Dad was cleaning you up.” Also known as, she was eavesdropping. “Did you get into a fight with your dad?”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. That’s all he keeps thinking. If he talks about it, then all his fears are real and they’ll swallow him whole like that demon did some guy in the movie.

“Was he mad at you about the fight at school?” Sweet, stubborn Ally - never ready to give up on something. She thinks that anyone will feel better if they talk long enough. She’s a lot different than Aidan in that respect, seeing as how he’s learned to bottle everything up and hide it away. His parents taught him that. They didn’t mean for him to learn it so easily. Hiding what he’s thinking has unintentionally hurt his dad more than once, but sometimes Aidan just doesn’t want to talk. “You told him what that boy said, right? He deserved more than what you gave him. I was ready to hit him with my tray; I was so mad.”

That would’ve been funny to see, but when Aidan tries to picture it to make himself laugh, he can’t. All he can picture is his mom sitting at the kitchen table early one morning, staring down at bills that didn’t make any sense to him, and rubbing her face tiredly. That was a few months after her discharge from the military. Savings can only go so far after getting fired from a job and denied any sort of pension or settlement and she wouldn’t take money from Mustang no matter how hard he pressed.

“Do you think my parents would have been happier if I’d never been born?”

Ally sits up sharply and ogles him in shock. “What?”

Aidan stares up at the ceiling, unwilling to meet her bright blue eyes. “Would their lives have been easier, better even, if my mom hadn’t gotten pregnant with me?”

“That’s…” Ally shakes her head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Biting his lip, Aidan rolls over so that his back is facing her. He can feel her reaching out to pull him back in the way the mattress dips, but she hesitates and pulls back. “The anti-fraternization laws in the military are there for a reason. They’re to ensure that there isn’t an abuse of power, among other things. Even after my dad became Fuhrer and he and my mom married, he didn’t fight to repeal the law, even though it messed with their lives.” He sounds like he’s reading from a history textbook. It’s a defense mechanism that he has yet to outgrow. “They spent years following the rules - and then they broke them. They might never have been caught if my mom didn’t get pregnant.”

“That’s not your fault,” Ally tells him fiercely. “Your parents loved each other. Dad says that they loved each other before he even joined their team.”

“Love doesn’t mean a thing against the law,” Aidan points out. “I was… I wasn’t planned. They had all these plans for the future, all these dreams - and I wasn’t in a single one.”

“You were a surprise!”

“I was a _mistake_.”

Ally’s lip trembles in the same way her mom’s did earlier, like she’s torn between crying or yelling. He doesn’t want either of them. He hates it when she’s mad at him and even more when she cries. He doesn’t want to make her cry. He probably made his mom cry tonight, maybe even his dad. God, did he really say all those awful things to his dad?

“You take that back, Aidan Mustang,” Ally snaps.

Aidan’s mouth twists into a sneer and he’s grateful that Ally can’t see his face right now. She would’ve yelled at him then. She really hates it when he makes that look. “I’m sure they wondered at least once if they could do the same thing with me when Mom was pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” Ally cries out. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

But now it’s out in the open and it’s all he can think about. He said it out loud. Cat’s out of the bag, can of worms has been opened, and all his fears and thoughts are spilling out of him like blood from knife to an artery. “The one thing that could’ve ruined all of their goals - nearly fifteen years of planning - was being found out. And it’s pretty damn hard to hide a kid, especially when he pops out looking exactly like the one man you’re not supposed to sleep with.” He laughs mirthlessly. “I didn’t even have the decency of looking like my mom.”

“Like you had a choice in that?” Ally demands. “Aidan, stop being a dummy. Your mom and dad are happier with you here. I’m happier with you here. What if I had to deal with that” - she jabs a finger in Bran’s snoring direction - “all by myself, huh?”

He really appreciate her attempt at humor - no, really, he’s grateful - but he can’t find it in him to laugh. His parents would’ve been better off without him. They wouldn’t have struggled so much. They could’ve still been together in private and had fun and things would’ve been so much easier. It wouldn’t have been nearly as stressful. They would never have worried about whether or not all their plans were for naught - that everything they worked for since they were barely into their twenties were ruined by a tiny, little mistake. His mother wouldn’t have had to leave the career she built her life upon and his dad never would’ve had to hurt himself and his mom like that.

“I know they both love me,” Aidan bursts out, tears pricking at his eyes again for the second time today. “I know my dad loves Mom and would do anything for us - did everything for us that he could in the situation without compromising their goals or himself.” He knows - he really does - but it doesn’t make those memories hurt any less. “But I keep thinking their lives would’ve been so much better if I hadn’t been born. I messed up all their plans. Mom lost her career because of me and almost my dad. I don’t think he would’ve been able to forgive himself if he couldn’t live up to that promise he made my mom. And it would’ve been because of me, some dumb, worthless, unplanned baby. I can’t be worth that much. I can’t.”

He wanted so badly to blame everything on his dad earlier because it was less painful and scary than blaming himself. He knows that now. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that all this babbling is ridiculous. It’s childish self-centered thinking that most kids tend to grow out of by the time they hit ten. But all those old memories swarm over him now, reminding him of how he felt then but couldn’t quite figure out.

A memory of when he was three years-old comes back to him, one of his first memories ever. It was a rainy night. They went to the movies. When they came out, giggling and smiling as he snacked on a sucker, his mom came to a sudden stop as her eyes caught something. Aidan didn’t know what she was looking at, but caught a glimpse of a familiar black coat standing at the ticket counter, heard a familiar laugh, one that registered as “Dad-but-not-Dad” in his mind, and then there was General Roy Mustang, a pretty girl at his side, laughing as well.

His mom moved to step toward him and then she spun in the opposite direction and carried him into the bathroom even though he just went. She was breathing heavily, eyes closed, but then opened them and smiled at him when he put a sticky hand on her face. _“Can he be my dad at the movies?”_ he asked. Mustang could be dad at their home or dad at his home if his mom ever took him there, but not anywhere else, so probably not the movies either.

The date wasn’t real, of course, just a ploy on their part to keep things hidden a little longer, but that didn’t mean that it hadn’t hurt her to see it. She couldn’t be that woman standing next to him, laughing at his joke, holding his hand. And it was because of the little boy she was holding in her arms.

Silence drifted over them the second he stopped talking. He can’t bear to look at Ally, curling in on himself on his side. Now she knows just how weak he is, how scared, how utterly useless he feels. It’s dumb - it’s all so dumb - but now that it’s all out, he can’t hide it anymore. He doesn’t like not being able to hide from things. It makes him feel too vulnerable and open for attack.

And Ally, well, there’s nothing in the world that has managed to knock her speechless, until this very moment. This is the girl that can ramble on for hours at a time about multiple subjects. She can talk until her lips go blue. She always has something to say, even if it’s not the right or best thing to say, especially if it gets her into more trouble. She fights and argues and hates to back down or lose at anything. She always likes to get the last say, always the one to get the last goodbye on the phone or anywhere else. In this moment though, she is completely silent. Aidan finds it kind of sad that he’s the one that did that to her first.

Aidan flinches when he feels Ally sidle up behind him and tenses up when she wraps a thin arm around him. Her hand finds one of his balled up in a fist and she gently pries it open so that she can slip her fingers into his. Once more it’s his bad hand, but she’s careful this time and the pain fades away. He’s surprised though when she presses her face into his back and he feels hot tears spill onto his shirt. She decided not to yell at him then.

“You’re so stupid,” Ally says in between sniffling, her voice muffled in his shirt.

“But everyone says I’m so smart,” Aidan responds. Finally, he rolls over and shifts so that he’s lying on his back, their hands resting between each other, still together, while she leans her head against his arm.

“If you ever say anything like that again, I’ll punch you,” Ally tells him, and he believes it. Actually makes him smile a little this time. “You’re not a mistake, maybe an accident, but accidents aren’t always bad. Some are good.”

Aidan rolls his eyes. “Like what?”

“I wasn’t planned either,” Ally points out. “Am I a bad accident?”

“Your birth didn’t nearly ruin over a decade’s worth of planning to help rebuild the infrastructure of a corrupt government.”

Ally pulls her head away to glare at him. “Well, it didn’t, did it? Your dad’s the biggest man in the country and is fixing the State Alchemist Program. Your mom is still his bodyguard. They’re happily married and live together and are almost as cheesy as my parents. They have you. Yeah, those first few years really sucked and people got hurt, but it all worked out in the end, right?”

“When you put it like that…” Aidan sighs.

“I’m always right,” Ally harrumphs. “You should know that by now.”

She nuzzles up against him again and closes her eyes, letting him know that she’s done with the conversation. As far as she’s concerned, she won. Definitely her mother’s daughter. Aidan stares up at the ceiling again. A good accident. Well, it sounds better than a mistake, right?

He’s still kind of mad at his dad and he’s definitely mad at himself, but he knows that he’ll figure it out in time. That’s all he needs - time to think. This whole day has been a whirlwind of not being able to think straight. It’s probably why he’s been such a mess. He’s been sitting down, lost in his thoughts, but unable to actually get anywhere, stuck running in the same circle of thought over and over again. He wonders if his dad ever felt like that when he was alone at his home while his mom and Aidan were at theirs. Trying to think of solutions, of anything to make it better or make sense of things, but only coming up with the same pitiful conclusions.

His dad. Aidan closes his eyes. It’s going to hurt like hell seeing him again. Hopefully his mom is asleep since she’s sick, but he knows for a fact that his dad is still awake. They have the same sleep tendencies, after all. As long as his brain is running - and it is most definitely running rampant on all the things Aidan flung in his face earlier - then he won’t be able to sleep. He hopes his mom is at least sleeping at his side to give him some comfort. He likes his privacy, especially when he’s upset, but sometimes it helps to not be alone.

It takes almost another hour for Aidan to fall asleep, even though both Ally and Bran are out like lights, but when his brain finally gives him some relief and he drifts off, he’s still holding onto Ally’s hand.


	4. the smallest words (part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said that there were only two parts to this, but I unintentionally lied. I didn’t plan on writing a third, but then it was just begging for it and it didn’t feel concluded to me. I have to end on a happy note with this AU and it was really important to me that Aidan speak with both Riza and Roy.

The morning is as unforgiving as Aidan is. He wakes up the second the sun begins to light up the living room, despite having fallen asleep a mere five hours before, wide awake all things considered. Of course, no one else in the house is awake, even though he was the last to drift off, and so Aidan spends a few minutes contemplating on whether or not to try falling back asleep. It’s sorry attempt. He knows his own sleeping patterns and so falling asleep is out of the question, especially as his mind begins to run again.

Extricating himself from Ally is difficult, considering that she’s somehow not only to get his hand in a death grip but wrap herself around him. She gets cold when she sleeps and tries to find the easiest way to get warm. Apparently the son of the Flame Alchemist is a natural heater. Aidan manages to separate himself from her without waking her up and she tightly grips onto his pillow as he tiptoes off the mattress. After making sure she’s properly covered with the blanket, he leaves the living room in search of his clothes from the previous night. They’re in the dryer, just as he suspected Rebecca would put them, and he hastily switches Bran’s clothes for his own, putting the clothes he wore last night in a laundry bin.

Many people have remarked on what an excellent houseguest Aidan is. He’s so terribly polite, perhaps in fear that a person will reject him if he steps out of line. Aidan knows why that feeling comes over him now. He was rejected so often before in his childhood. He just wanted to make his mom happy.

By the time Uncle Havoc stumbles to the front door in full uniform, grumbling under his breath about the ridiculous hours the Fuhrer has to put in, Aidan is already sitting patiently by the door on top of a chest filled with winter coats. Havoc stops when he sees the young boy waiting for him, his hands dropping from fixing up his military jacket.

“Can I ride with you?” Aidan asks flatly, eyes focused on the front door rug.

Havoc smiles gamely. “Sure thing, bud. I’ll get your bike back to you tonight.”

Aidan shrugs his shoulders in response, something that is not common with him. His mom taught him not to shrug his shoulders - said that it was rude - but he’ll blame the early morning hours on it. No one likes to talk first thing in the morning, especially not after so little sleep. He follows Havoc out of the house without speaking and tries to think about anything besides seeing his mom and dad again. Ally will be mad at him for leaving without saying goodbye; Bran will make a joke about his weird sleep hours. Aunt Rebecca will most likely fret all day when Havoc tells her that Aidan was awake and waiting for him to leave for work.

“You know, you’ve always been a quiet kid, lost in that head of yours,” Havoc says during the drive, “but this has to be a record.”

“I’ve got a lot to think about,” Aidan mumbles.

Havoc side-eyes him for a second before returning his attention to the road. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the fight you got into with your dad, does it?”

Biting his lip, Aidan focuses as hard as he can on everything outside of the car. “What does it matter to you?”

“Well, for one, I’m the one that has to deal with your dad all day,” Havoc explains, like it’s no big deal. That’s the great thing about him and Bran: so much awful shit can be going down and they’ll still somehow find a way to make a joke about it. Aidan is almost certain that half the reason he hasn’t spiraled in some serious mental meltdown is because of Bran’s sense of humor. His brain isn’t wired for stuff like that. “Most importantly though, leader of this country be damned, I’m worried about  _ you _ . Yeah, you act like nothing gets to you, but there’s bound to be something that does.”

“I’m fine,” Aidan replies in that same flat tone as before.

Letting out a sigh, Havoc shakes his head. “God, you’re so much like Riza sometimes that it drives me mad.”

Not knowing what to think of that - whether to take it as an insult, compliment, or something else altogether - Aidan keeps his mouth shut. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence. Havoc never turns the radio on and Aidan stares out the window without thinking. He doesn’t want to think. He’s tired. If he thinks, he might open up and he doesn’t want to do that. When the mansion rolls into view and they pass through the security gate, his heart begins to race and he starts to feel sick to his stomach, but he says nothing. Havoc glances at him, but wisely says nothing. Aidan doesn’t know if he could speak without throwing up, to be honest.

“Well, we’re here,” Havoc says when they park. “I usually go in to meet your father…”

Aidan’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t want to see his father. Fiddling with the handle, he contemplates any way he can avoid the man, but by the time he comes up with something, he raises his eyes and sees his father striding towards the car. Panic latches onto his mind. He has to escape. His heart leaps into his throat. The windows are tinted, so his father can’t see him, but Aidan can see him. His steps, usually proud and sure, are short and halting. He doesn’t want to get in the car. His eyes are towards the ground, not looking ahead. His hands are in his pockets, such a sign of immaturity that it would’ve made Aidan snort otherwise.

His father didn’t sleep a wink last night.

They are all signs that he should be forgiven, and yet Aidan feels a spark of anger towards the man. So he’s okay to look shameful and guilty now but not then? Of course - it’ll look good on him now. It’s a stupid thought, one that Aidan knows is absurd, and yet he feels it anyways and doesn’t let it go. When he gets out of the car, he freezes and Mustang halts and stares at him with wide, startled and pleading eyes.

_ Forgive me, _ his dark eyes seem to say.

Aidan can’t - he can’t forgive him, not right now - just as he can’t forgive himself. And so he darts past his father, running into the house at full speed, and yells at himself not to look back. If he looks back, he’ll stop. And if he stops, god, he doesn’t know. He’ll run into his dad’s arms, beg for forgiveness, beg for attention, beg for something, and he doesn’t want that. He’s still mad and confused and confused about being mad and mad about being confused. He stumbles into the house and slams the door behind him, breathing heavily and scared out of his mind.

Fourteen years-old and he can’t even face his father. How childish.

Heart pounding in his chest, Aidan stands in the parlor awkwardly, not knowing whether to hide in his bedroom or seek out his mom. He shouldn’t bother her, but he both wants her and doesn’t. After all, he’s acting like a baby. He’s too old to want the comfort of his mother, isn’t he? And yet instead of going to his bedroom, he finds himself standing in front of his parents’ bedroom door, hand poised to knock on it.

_ Go away,  _ a nasty voice in his head tells him.  _ She doesn’t want to see you, the face of everything that went wrong in her life. _

Before he can run away though, the door opens and he comes face-to-face with his mom, as if she could sense him standing outside her bedroom, just as she always seemed to know when he was a toddler. He stares up at her without a single thing to say on his mind. She looks down at him somewhat blankly, the way he does when he’s trying to hide how he feels. And then it all opens up. He sees her pain, her fear, but most importantly, her unquestionable love and he lets her gather him into her arms, wrapping herself around him and letting him press his face into the collar of her bathrobe and close his eyes to fight against the tears.

“You’re almost as tall as me now,” his mom says in a tight voice. “When did you get so big?”

“I don’t feel big,” Aidan mutters into her robe.

His mom pulls back and holds him by his shoulders, smiling warmly at him. “You have the biggest heart and that’s one of the best things about you.” She pulls one hand away so that she can smooth down his hair, something that she does when she’s trying to sooth herself. It makes her feel like she’s doing something, paying special attention to him, when she’s upset. It’s funny because both he and his dad do the same thing when they’re nervous. “It’s also one of your flaws. Your father has the same problem.”

Without meaning to, Aidan jerks away from her, not hard, but the action startles his mom into letting him go. “I don’t want to be like him,” he says. “I want to be like you.”

“And you are,” his mom tells him, “maybe a little too much. But you have some of your dad in you as well.”

He wants to argue and prove her wrong - and then he doesn’t. Arguing with his mom right now sounds like the very last thing in the world that he wants to do. Instead, he bites his lip and throws his arms around her again, soaking up all the comfort of her touch. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. He repeats the words in his head over and over again. He might not have known a lot of things growing up or understood much of what was happening between her and his dad, but Aidan always knew that.

“I’m sorry.” Aidan closes his eyes again and clutches the back of her robe. She holds him tightly, no matter how weak the flu has made her feel over the past few days. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to upset or scare you. I shouldn’t have run out like that last night. I shouldn’t have gotten into a fight at school.” He doesn’t say that he shouldn’t have said such terrible things to his father. He’s not ready for that. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re here and safe now,” his mom sighs into his hair. “That’s all that matters.” For now, at least. Later on, when the dust has settled, punishment will get handed down to him. He did break some pretty fundamental and serious rules, after all. Right now though, what he needs is reassurance and guidance. He didn’t know if he could handle her being outwardly disappointed in him in this moment. “But I would like to know why you punched that boy. No one knows. Not even Bran or Ally would tell their parents.”

Pulling away, slower this time, Aidan wipes at his face. No tears came this time, but it was a close call. He doesn’t want to cry in front of his mom. It would only serve to scare and upset her. “He called you a whore.”

Out of everything that Aidan is expecting, his mom laughing is not one of them. He blinks at her in confusion while she full on laughs and shakes her head at him. “Oh, you silly, sweet boy.” She kisses him on the crown of his head. He doesn’t know what’s so funny. He certainly wasn’t laughing when that boy insulted her like that and yet she’s acting like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard all week. “Still trying to protect me after all these years?”

“He didn’t know what he was talking about!” Aidan exclaims. “He slandered your name and laughed about it right in my face. And then he called Ally a whore! Well, that was after I punched him, but still.”

The smile is back on her face as she gives him a knowing look. “You’re so protective. Who protects you?”

“You do,” Aidan points out. “You always have. But no one ever protects you. For the first four years of my life, you did everything on your own and you never complained even when it was too much.”

“It was never too much,” his mother tells him softly. “I had you. That was enough for me.”

Aidan’s head drops. “I’m not worth everything that happened to you.”

When his mom puts a finger under his chin to force him to look up at her, there is a fierceness in her amber eyes that makes him suck in a gasp of air. “Listen to me: You are worth everything I went through and more. I don’t regret what happened to me for a second. I’d do it all again, if only to see watch you grow up, see you smile, hear you laugh. Do you understand?”

Biting his lip, he nods his head. He wants so desperately to believe her. The way she’s looking at him right now leaves no room for arguments or doubts. He trusts her, always has. As a kid, she could’ve told him that the sky was green and he would’ve believed her. His mom doesn’t lie to him. Although he doesn’t remember it himself, back when she first told him that he couldn’t call Mustang “dad” anymore, he apparently didn’t ask questions and accepted it, despite being so young. His mom told him, so he did it. It was a little harder to believe that Mustang still loved him, but she told him that too, and so he believed that as well as best as he could.

Why is it so difficult for him to believe it now that he’s older?

“The only thing I regret is that you were hurt in the process,” his mom says, her voice still firm, but her eyes are tinged with sadness now. “Roy and I have a particular high tolerance for pain and so it didn’t hurt as much as it could have being kept apart. But keeping you away from your father, forcing you to live in such a complicated world…” She closes her eyes. “It wasn’t fair and it hurt you.”

“It doesn’t matt--”

“Yes, Aidan,” his mom interrupts him, opening her eyes and reaching out to hold his face in her hands. “Yes it does. You matter more to me than anything else. I’m allowed to be selfish about that, I think.” The smile on her face is sad and a little misplaced. He doesn’t like it. He never wants to see her look like this again, so sad and tired and still somehow content. It makes no sense. “We told ourselves that our suffering didn’t matter in light of the greater good. But it’s harder to justify when it’s your own child that is suffering. For that, I can never forgive myself.”

Aidan finds himself softening, like his body is going limp after being tense for so long. “Mom…” He doesn’t want her to hurt. She did everything she could for him and more. It’s not her fault. And it isn’t his. Things were in motion long before he was even conceived. It’s difficult to accept things though when there is no blame to lay at someone’s feet. “Things were weird and sometimes it was hard - but I was never unhappy. You always made sure that I had a happy childhood and that I knew I was loved.”

Her hands face fall away from his face, but despite any guilt she feels, she doesn’t look away from him. She’s better at facing her fears than he is. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy, especially for your father. He’s good at hiding how he feels, but it devastated him to be apart from you, from us. He wanted to be there more than anything, but I wouldn’t let him, partially because of our goals and then out of stubbornness and pride. Don’t blame him for my decisions.”

“Why did he get all he wanted while you had everything taken away from you?” Aidan asks. “What’s so important about him that you had to sacrifice everything?”

His mom hums thoughtfully. “He’s a better politician than me. He can get things done that I never could. I wanted to rebuild this country and hope for a better future - and he could offer that.” She makes it sound so simple. At the end of the day, her career in the military was to help him, but by helping him, she was also able to accomplish her own desires and see her dreams come to fruition. Then, she folds her arms across her chest and gives him a look. “Besides, I didn’t have everything taken away from me. From where I’m standing, I got everything I wanted and more.”

“But--”

“There were some awful nights, a lot of bumps in  the road, and more rough patches than I can count,” his mom tells him, “but look at where we are. Roy is exactly where we fought for him to be and the country is healing and mending relations with neighboring countries.” She lets out a little laugh. “I’m married to a man I loved in secret for far too long to be reasonable and I have a brilliant, kind, if not very stubborn son.” Aidan blushes and skirts his eyes from her. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed by his mom’s compliments, maybe because he doesn’t feel like he deserves them after yesterday. “You’re right that I didn’t plan on having a child and it certainly made things a lot more complicated than they already were -- but some of the best things in life are unexpected.”

“That’s what Ally said,” Aidan grumbles under his breath.

“You should probably listen to her then,” his mom informs him. “She’s a smart girl.”

His mom doesn’t regret him. She loves him. She’s not mad at him. She loves him. She’s grateful for him. She doesn’t regret him. Aidan keeps telling himself that, the words circling around in his head like a merry-go-round. He can get through this. A few more hours of considering all of this and he’ll be able to move past these insecurities or at least he hopes so. He doesn’t like not being sure about things. It makes his imagination run wild and while that’s typically a good thing, sometimes it isn’t.

“You need to talk to your father when he gets home,” his mom says abruptly. “He was up all night worrying.”

Panic shoots through Aidan’s chest. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

His mom frowns. “Aidan--”

“No.” Aidan shakes his head. “I  _ can’t _ \--”

“You said a lot of awful things,” his mom points out, not meanly. She isn’t saying anything that isn’t true. He did say a lot of hurtful things to his father yesterday. He meant for them to be hurtful. He doesn’t say things like that without them being on purpose. “I haven’t seen him so broken since…” She drifts off, either unable to recall a time or not wanting to divulge the truth. She doesn’t lie to him, but she does omit the truth occasionally. He’s certain that there’s a good bit about his parents’ intertwined history that he doesn’t know. “You two need to talk.”

“I don’t see why,” Aidan replies stubbornly. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean that it’s right,” his mom says. “You want to blame someone for your father not being there? Then you can blame me. I was alone by my own choice. I hurt you, not your father.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Aidan says, a horrified feeling settling in his gut. She can’t possibly think that, can she? Not after all she did for him.

“And your father didn’t hurt me. He did everything in his power to protect the both of us.” His mom places a hand on her heart. “For me, please, talk with him. He’s terrified that you’re going to hate him forever -- and for something that isn’t his fault.”

Aidan clenches his fists at his side to keep himself from pulling at his hair. He doesn’t want to talk with his dad - doesn’t even want to look at him - but it’s for a myriad of reasons. He’s mad and it’s easy to be mad at a man that can’t even defend himself, but he’s also ashamed of himself. That horrified feeling stirs uncomfortably inside of him. He doesn’t want his mom believing that she hurt him and is ultimately to blame for the things that Aidan yelled at his father. He doesn’t want her to be upset. Knowing that he did upset her makes him ashamed enough as it is.

And perhaps that stubborn part of him - the part that wants to keep blaming Mustang - is just a cover for what he’s really feeling. Guilt at having purposely said remarks that he knew would cut his father. He knew that every word would act like a knife and he said them anyways - he said them with the specific intent to hurt him. And that’s not the kind of person he is. That’s truly awful and mean. Ally would say that it isn’t like him at all. He’s not a mean person. He’s supposed to be good. He’s supposed to be the nice one that never hurts anyone’s feelings.

But my god, when he’s hurting and angry, Aidan really knows how to tear someone down to size with just words and that’s not good at all. It’s utterly shameful.

“I can’t talk to him,” Aidan tells her, guilt swallowing him whole. Before his mom can protest, he turns away from her and rushes to the safety of his bedroom. He locks the door, something he’s never done before, and then crawls into his bed, hiding under the blanket and pillows. Only then does he feel safe and like he can breathe again. He’s alone. He’s good at being alone. It helps him recharge and think straight.

Except instead of feeling good or relaxed, Aidan only manages to feel worse, loneliness and shame creeping up on him like shadow monsters, digging their painful claws into him. He thinks of his mother’s sad face and it hurts. He thinks of his father’s pleading eyes and it fucking  _ hurts _ . Why does he get to feel guilty when he got everything? Why does Aidan feel guilty for just saying what the two of them were both thinking?

They all got what they wanted in the end, but at what cost? Does the end justify the means? And is there really anyone to blame?

Just thinking of all this stuff is exhausting and Aidan falls into a fitful sleep. He can’t think straight when he’s so tired and worked up like this.

He doesn’t leave his bedroom the entire day, not even after waking up. His mom knocks on his door about dinner since he slept through lunch, but he doesn’t have the energy in him to respond. Instead, he pretends to be asleep and listens as she sighs and sets his plate of food down outside his door. The only reason he eats is because he knows that he’ll get sick if he doesn’t, but he barely notices the food. He barely notices anything, to be honest. For once, he tries not to think about things. Maybe if he can ignore everything, it’ll all go away.

The next few days are awkward at best. There’s no way he can get away with hiding in his bedroom for a second day in a row without panicking his mom. Besides, he needs to shower. Luckily the Fuhrer’s mansion is large enough where he can avoid seeing his father. He is able to dodge the man and slip around the house without coming face-to-face with him, something that he is both grateful for and agitated about. Just from watching his father, Aidan can’t tell how his dad feels at having not confronted Aidan yet either. He looks both upset with Aidan avoiding him and relieved that he doesn’t have to face his fears.

Things would have been easier if Aidan was able to go to school, but the out of school suspension hangs over his head like a curse. There is no distraction from classes or his friends. Luckily both his dad and mom have to go to work and leave the Fuhrer’s mansion, leaving him with Breda and the regular guards that circulate the place. At least he is able to play a few games of shogi with Breda, who taught him the game when he was five. Breda definitely doesn’t bring up the fight between Aidan and Mustang, although he does offer some fighting pointers.

When his parents return, Havoc also brings in Aidan’s schoolwork that was given to Bran. Aidan is able to hole himself up in his room or the study under the guise of doing his work while he’s really using it as an excuse to hide. Ally and Bran come over once, but because he’s grounded, Aidan can’t go out to do anything with them. They hang around for a few hours, Aidan smiling and laughing and joking around and not talking about anything related to his father. Ally side-eyes him for a while, not believing him, but by the time she leaves, she hugs him and smiles real big, the kind of smile that makes Aidan think that things might be better.

It’s near the end of the week though while he’s on the phone with Bran when his best friend asks, “So have you talked to your dad yet?”

Aidan’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach. He thought he was doing better - he thought that things were fine and he was starting to get over it - but with a simple question, he’s reminded that he’s most certainly not good. Even worse is that he knows that he can’t avoid it for any longer. At this point, he’s just lying to himself.

“I overheard Mustang talking to Dad about it,” Bran tells him. “He seems pretty beaten up.” Of course he does. Aidan feels the same damn way. “Probably not the best way for the Fuhrer to feel during tense negotiations with Drachma.”

It takes a surprising amount of willpower not to slam the phone down on the receiver. “Right - because his feelings are the most important thing that matters.”

“Well, he  _ is _ the leader of our country and military,” Bran points out, “and I don’t know about you, but I’m not thrilled over the idea of getting into a war.”

Aidan pulls the phone away from his ear and gives it an offended look, as if Bran can actually see his face. “Since when did you get into politics?”

“Politics is kind of our families’ thing,” Bran says. It’s more so of Aidan’s family’s thing, considering his father does run the country, but whether Uncle Havoc likes politics or not, he’s often privy to information that most soldiers could only dream of, despite not being a General. “Look; I know it’s not any of my business and I’m not here to tell you what to do. But you need to talk to your dad.”

“I can’t,” Aidan says, the misery plain in his voice. By now, it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to his father; he just doesn’t think he can. This whole mess has gone a lot farther than he anticipated and now he’s just...humiliated. Despite his short words with Bran just moments ago, Aidan isn’t mad at his dad anymore, but he stubbornly held out for so long that he’s afraid that things can’t go back to the way they were. What if his  _ dad _ is mad at _ him _ now?

“Don’t be such a chicken,” Bran tells him. “Where’s the guy that socked that kid in the face?”

“Grounded and suspended from school, hiding in his bedroom,” Aidan answers flatly.

Bran laughs. “You know what Ally would say, right?”

“That I’m being an idiot.”

“Damn straight you are.” Bran isn’t known for the type of comfort that involves coddling. He couldn’t do the same thing as Ally did the night Aidan ran away to their house. But it’s Bran’s somewhat teasing prodding that Aidan needs to get crawling out of his hole. “Now go talk to your dad. It’s not just killing him. If I know you - and I know you - this is eating away at you.”

Of course Bran is entirely correct about that assumption. It’s been eating at Aidan all week, causing his significant stress and making him feel sick just when he thinks he’s pushed everything away. He knows that he’s lost some weight as well since he’s only been eating off and on, something that his mom will fret about. He’s skinny as it is. He needs to get this over with. A week of avoiding all his problems is far too long. It’s not like him. He likes it when things are straightforward and there’s no beating around the bush. It makes sense that doing that himself would make him a miserable little snot.

After saying their goodbyes, Aidan hangs up the phone and stares down at it for a minute. Dinner will be soon. He could go down there and try to face both his parents. Maybe he could just start talking like everything is normal and things will slowly fall back into place without him having to talk directly to his father about last week. That’s a pipe dream that he only entertains for a second. No way in hell is his mom going to let him get away with that and his dad deserves more than that.

When all is said and done, his father also suffered alone during those trying times and he’s probably doing the same thing now. Some people are gluttons for punishment when they think they deserve it and Aidan knows that his father honestly thinks he deserves it. Both of his parents do. They’re so self-righteous. It’s no wonder where he got that from.

Aidan knows his dad, just like his mom knows him, and so it’s easy for him to find his father despite there being so many rooms and corridors in the Fuhrer’s mansion. His dad is in the study, knee deep in paperwork and yet unable to focus. He’s got a lot of his plate and Aidan feels something terrible over adding to it. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s doing - and did - the best that he can.  Sitting at the desk, his father has his head in his hands, a bundle of papers in front of him, but Aidan can tell that he isn’t actually reading them. For one, his eyes are closed, but he’s not sleeping either. He’s thinking - and not about work.

For what feels like hours, Aidan stands in the room quietly, wringing his hands. His dad hasn’t noticed him yet. He liked to joke that Aidan had inherited his mom’s ability to sneak up on people. Aidan remembers playing games of sneaking around the house as silently as possible, sometimes with his dad. His mom always won.

Taking a deep breath, Aidan just goes for it, knowing that if he doesn’t say anything now, he’ll run back to his bedroom again. “Hey, Dad.”

His dad, predictably, startles and jumps to his feet, sending some paperwork flying. Aidan cringes and gives his dad a sheepish smile in an attempt to apologize for making him jump. His dad ignores the paperwork and pretends that it didn’t happen. Both of them end up looking at each other with the same expression. The only problem is that his dad doesn’t seem to know what to say. The smile fades from his face and the guilt becomes more apparent in his eyes. His dad isn’t angry with him. No, Aidan can tell, he’s angry with himself.

Like father like son, right? And people said that he was all his mom.

Aidan takes a step forward. “I just wanted to say--”

“You were right,” his dad interrupts him. “Not about you being a mistake or inconvenience - I could not be more proud to have you as my son - but about me being a selfish coward. You were right.”

Blinking in surprise, Aidan slowly shakes his head. “No, I was being dumb and childish. I know that.” 

“I let your mother take the fall for me - and I didn’t even fight it.” His voice is so devoid of emotion that it kind of scares Aidan. His father is passionate, even when he’s cold and angry. To have nothing be there… “Truth be told, I was kind of relieved when we were found out. I didn’t have to hide anymore. Things came to a pass. I could move on and I...I used your mother. Oh, she came up with the idea, but we both knew it was our only choice. I argued, knowing full well that I’d never convince her otherwise. I didn’t even bother trying to come up with another plan.”

_ It was my choice, _ his mother’s voice rings in his head in perfect clarity. Aidan knows all about choices. He’s pretty good at making people convinced that they came up with their own ideas as well, like when he somehow manages to get him, Bran, and Ally out of trouble or at least with a lighter punishment. His mom would be furious with the both of them if she knew what Mustang is implying and Aidan is capable of believing.

“I didn’t protect her and I wasn’t there for you,” his father says, running his hands through his hair. His hands aren’t gloved. “I can spend the rest of my life trying to make up for that, but it doesn’t change that I did those things - and it was so easy for me. I didn’t have to do anything while Riza...while your mother did _ everything _ on her own.” He lets out a shaky, callous laugh. “I keep wondering how she can even stand to look at me after I that I’ve done to hurt her. It’s only natural for you to be mad at me for what I did. You have every right to hate me. There are days when I do.”

Aidan suddenly recalls the messy state of the living room every time he crept through the house while trying to avoid his dad. It was especially difficult to do at night if he ever got hungry or thirsty because his dad seemed to always be either in the living room area or his study. He connects the dots quickly. His father, out of some twisted guilt, has been sleeping on the couch. He probably feels too ashamed to share a bed with his mom, like he doesn’t deserve her. For the past week, all of them have been suffering alone. Again. Just like they did  before.

Damn, they really are a bunch of emotional masochists and even bigger idiots than Aidan thought.

He doesn’t think of what he can say to make things better. Sometimes words don’t matter much, even though they’re what started things in the first place. Instead, he strides forward, the confidence entirely forced, and throws his arms around his dad in a fierce hug. His dad tenses at first, as if unsure that Aidan is really hugging him or he’s just imagining things. Aidan closes his eyes and hugs him tighter until slowly but surely his dad returns the gesture. His dad isn’t a hugger, hasn’t been for as long as Aidan can remember, and Aidan has always gravitated towards his mom for such physical comfort, but the times they have hugged have meant a lot to the both of them.

“I don’t hate you; I could  _ never _ hate you,” Aidan tells him hotly. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just...acting like a brat. I was scared and confused and upset and I acted out.”

His father takes a shuddering breath. “It was the truth.”

“Maybe, but it was a twisted version of it.” Aidan pulls away, one hand dropping to his side as he rubs the back of his neck with the other. “There wasn’t another way; if there had been, I know you would’ve found it. And it’s not like you didn’t suffer as well, just in a different way. Mom at least had me; you had no one. You were forced to watch from the outside as you were excluded. I should’ve thought of that.”

His dad falls back into his seat. “It was so hard, watching you two and not being able to do...anything. Doing  something as simple as giving you a ride on my shoulders would’ve made me happy, but instead, I had to watch as Riza carried you or even Havoc…” His dad sighs and shook his head. “It sounds ridiculous now, but I used to get so damn jealous of Havoc whenever I saw him playing with his son, but especially you. I’d sit there and think, ‘Why can’t I do that? Why does he get to and not me?’ Like some sort of petulant child.”

Aidan laughs, even though it’s not really a laughing matter. He can’t help himself though, not even when his dad gives him a strange look. “I used to think the same thing, except about Bran. ‘He gets to play with his dad at work. Why can’t I?’ I’d throw my typical fit at home afterwards - sit in the living room and play with the toy cars you got me, refuse to speak a word.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know how mom has dealt with either of us all these years.”

A small smile appears on his dad’s face. “She’s a good person - and you’re an incredible kid. You were so young and yet you handled things better than I think either of us.”

“It wasn’t always easy,” Aidan admits.

“No, it wasn’t,” his father sighs.

“But it was worth it, right?” Aidan insists. There’s hope in his dad’s eyes. He’s been waiting and dreaming all week that this would happen. It’s not funny in the slightest, but Aidan feels the same way. He was terrified that his father would be mad at him and would confirm all of his fears. “Everything worked out in the end. The best things in life are fought for. You can’t gain anything--”

“--without giving something in return.” The lopsided smile on his dad’s face broadens and he pulls Aidan into another hug.

They needed this, he thinks. A part of his dad would always fear that Aidan resented him for the past just as a part of Aidan would always fear that his parents regretted him. Both were childish and unfounded fears, but Aidan has found in his experience that many fears aren’t entirely logical. An invisible barrier between them that Aidan never noticed before is shattered and he allows his dad to hug him like his mom normally would.

A heavy weight lifts from Aidan’s chest and he feels like he can breathe again, but more importantly, he feels like something has shifted between him and his father, an understanding that wasn’t there before. He thinks of the few alchemy textbooks that he has tucked underneath his bed and the nights he’s spent leafing through his dad’s old books when he knows his parents are asleep.

Aidan is his mother’s son, but he is also his father’s as well.


	5. Up Shit Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran and Aidan go on an adventure in the woods - after ditching Aidan's guards, of course. They're definitely going to get in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, without a doubt, inspired by "Stranger Things".

“I don’t think is such a good idea,” Aidan decided about halfway through their trek in the woods.

He glanced back towards what he thought was the direction of Bran’s house, but couldn’t be for certain. For the past two hours, he and Bran had been walking through the woods that crept on the outskirts of Central. It definitely was against the rules, considering that they were alone, having somehow managed to ditch the guards that seemed to always be within shouting range. Aidan couldn’t even say that he had thought this was a good idea from the start, but Bran had been eager and convincing and knew how to pique Aidan’s curiosity.

Aidan sighed, folding his arms across his chest. Bran always said that Aidan was going to grow up to be a master manipulator, but he had an idea that his best friend knew him too well.

Exploring the woods sounded like a great idea if he ignored everything that wasn’t great. While he knew that he had guards around him most of the time, they always remained out of sight in order to give him a normal life as possible. Being the Fuhrer’s son was not normal, especially after all the dangers that Fuhrer Bradley’s family had gone through. And yet here they were, tramping around the woods at dusk, two boys alone with nothing but the trees and woodland creatures to give them company. His dad was probably freaking out; his mom was going to ground him until he was old enough to retire.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport!” Bran exclaimed as he threw a stick as hard as he could. He wouldn’t care, of course. He got grounded all the time by his parents. The moment he came up with the decision to investigate the woods without any supervision, he had accepted that his mom, Aunt Rebecca, was going to ground the hell out of him.

“I’m not!” Aidan paused, looking around again. “You know where we’re going, right?”

“Sure,” Bran replied, sounding utterly confident.

Aidan narrowed his eyes. Bran only sounded that confident when he was faking it and trying to appease Aidan’s concerns. He knew his best friend too. However, there was nothing he could do short of calling him out, so Aidan hurried to catch up with him. Not that the woods scared him or anything and they most likely weren’t in any imminent danger of being kidnapped, but he didn’t think they should get separated. The woods couldn’t be that big since they were so close to Central. They’d probably pop out on a street any minute.

Of course, that wasn’t the case at all. Any minute turned into another hour and by then the sun had set and they were no closer to finding their way out of the woods. Curse Bran for being so adventurous.

“If we don’t find shelter, we’re going to die of hypothermia!” Aidan concluded, shivering in the dark as he followed close behind his best friend. He wasn’t scared, honestly, but the last time he’d let Bran go more than a few feet away from him, the other boy had hid behind a tree to jump out and startle him. Bran was still rubbing his red nose after Aidan had panicked and punched him in the face, although he wore a grin like he was contemplating doing it again.

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Bran said. “It’s only October.”

“Prolonged exposure to elements can lead to–”

“Aha! There’s your shelter!” Bran shouted, pointing upwards at something ahead of them.

Aidan peered up and spotted an abandoned treehouse. The thing looked rickety as all get out, a few boards hanging loosely and a window shut up. There was even some spray paint on it, although he didn’t recognize the symbols. He didn’t think it had anything to do with alchemy, although he couldn’t be for certain. One thing he did know was that was not a comforting source of shelter. If anything, it looked close to collapsing in on itself and falling out of the tree.

“No way,” Aidan said flatly, “no way am I getting in that.”

Bran shrugged his shoulders and said, “Suit yourself,” before darting towards the flimsy treehouse and climbing up the ladder that looked like it might break at any second.

“What if it’s a trap?” Aidan shouted. It would be the perfect trap in order to capture two eleven year-old boys with active imaginations. If Aidan was trying to capture someone like himself, he’d build something that would capture his interest and intrigue his mind. He liked mysteries and figuring things out. He liked learning things that other people didn’t know.

“You’re being a paranoid chicken!” Bran laughed before he clambered inside the treehouse and disappeared from Aidan’s sight.

Left in the dark alone, Aidan looked around uncomfortably before he groaned and quickly followed Bran up the ladder into the treehouse. If he fell through it and hurt himself, it was totally Bran’s fault. He wasn’t about to stand in the woods in the dark alone though. Why hadn’t they thought to bring flashlights? Then again, they hadn’t planned on being out so late, but hadn’t managed to find their way back either. This was, in the words of Uncle Havoc whenever he thought none of the kids were listening, a clusterfuck.

“This is so cool,” Bran said as he rummaged through the treehouse. He wasn’t wrong, Aidan had to admit. It looked like it belonged to kids much like them, an old abandoned comic lying in the corner next to a few empty cans of soda. There were two chairs that looked dangerous to sit on and a small table covered in cobwebs, a deck of cards lying innocently on top. Aidan ended up sneezing and coughing whenever he tried to move anything.

“It’s really dirty,” Aidan pointed out as he wiped his nose.

“So we clean it up,” Bran told him.

“Uh, since when do you clean anything?” Aidan asked dryly.

“Since it meant having a clubhouse,” Bran replied matter-of-factly. That was typically Aidan’s tone of voice. They stood in the treehouse and looked around, Bran triumphant and Aidan unsure. So far neither one of them had fallen through the floorboards, but, pun fully intended, they weren’t out of the woods yet. “We’ll have to set up some rules.”

Aidan gave him an incredulous look. Since when did Bran care about rules? As of right now, they would be lucky if either one of them would be free to come back to this place. Four hours gone with a simple explanation of, “We’re going on a hike!” and chances were that Aidan’s parents were never going to let him out of the house again. There weren’t a lot of times when Aidan actually cared about being the Fuhrer’s son, but not having such simple freedom did get to him every now and then.

“No girls,” Bran proclaimed.

“What about Ally-?”

“No. Girls.” Bran was incredibly forceful on that decision, strong enough to make Aidan wave his hands in the air in defeat and look away. He wasn’t going to argue on that one. “Also, our parents can’t know about it.”

At that, Aidan huffed. “I can’t do that. There’s no way I’ll be able to come out here again without my dad or mom knowing.” His mom’s nickname when she had been in the military was the Hawk’s Eye, for crying out loud. That kind of name suggested that nothing was able to slip by her. And his dad would make sure that any guards were on double duty after the stunt Aidan pulled tonight. Couldn’t Bran see that Aidan couldn’t live the same life as him? “Next time we come here, there will probably be a guard posted outside.”

Bran folded his arms across his chest. “I’m pretty sure you can figure something out.”

That sounded an awful lot like Bran thought Aidan was capable of lying and manipulating his parents. Aidan frowned at the suggestion. Did Bran not know his father? Roy Mustang was a master at manipulating people, from what Aidan had gathered about his father’s history. Meanwhile, Aidan was an eleven year-old boy. Sure, his parents had a habit of doting on him, especially his dad, after the first four years of his childhood, but still, he wasn’t so sure of himself.

“It’ll be fun!’ Bran insisted. “This can be our place. Don’t you want something away from everyone?”

That was completely true. Aidan would love nothing more than to have a place that was outside of his life. He liked his privacy and he tended to stick to himself if Ally, Bran, or Sara weren’t around. Unless he needed to be the center of attention or to get out of trouble or something interested him, he stuck to himself. However, as the Fuhrer’s son, it was very rare that he had that ability. Outside of his bedroom and Bran’s house, thanks to his dad being the head of the Fuhrer’s military security, Aidan didn’t have that. There were even guards outside of his school. This was one of the few times since Mom and his dad had gotten married that he’d been relatively alone.

And he needed that time, desperately, wholeheartedly. Aidan wasn’t his father. He didn’t like the spotlight; he merely used it to his advantage when necessary. This rickety treehouse could provide just that.

Aidan scowled. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”

Bran shrugged his shoulders. “And you know I’m right.”

Stalemates were never a good thing, something he’d learned while playing chess with his father. In the end, Aidan ended up agreeing with Bran and they made plans to come back to the treehouse as soon as possible to clean it up. It would be difficult and would be a while, considering both of them knew that they’d be grounded upon their return, but they’d get it done.

After dropping back to the ground out of the treehouse, Bran whipped out a compass from his pocket.

“Are you kidding me?” Aidan exclaimed, realizing that his best friend had been hiding their way out on purpose.

“You’re the Fuhrer’s son,” Bran pointed out as he started walking. “You needed some time to relax.”

As Bran started to walk away, heading in the direction of home, Aidan gaped at his back before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then slumping his shoulders with a groan. He was going to get so grounded for this. With the sun fully down, he had no choice but to jog to catch up with his best friend, nearly tripping over a fallen branch in the process. He should’ve known what Bran was doing, seeing as how he actually paid attention to the survival lessons that his dad gave them, but Aidan had been blinded by his own fears.

Within the hour, the two boys found themselves out of the woods, their bikes lying exactly where they’d left them, along with a frowning Rebecca to boot. She had her arms folded and was tapping her foot, glowering in a way that suggested swift retribution. Bran waved at her cheerfully. Aidan tucked in on himself and looked at the ground.

“At least Aidan has the sense to be ashamed,” Rebecca huffed. “You’re just like your father.”

Bran beamed, knowing full well that he was in trouble. Aidan elbowed him in the side.

They followed her back to the house, walking their bikes, as she made the appropriate calls. The moment they reached Bran’s house, he was sent to his bedroom to start his sentence while Aidan quietly sat on the front porch with his Aunt Rebecca. Normally, he would’ve tried to weasel his way out of trouble, but he knew there was no getting around this. If his godmother was this furious, there was no telling how his parents were going to react. He hoped for a tearful and relieved hug, but he knew that he was going to face the worst thing of all time.

His mom’s Disappointed Face.

Aidan shuddered and sank further into the chair. There was nothing worse than facing his mom’s disappointment. He didn’t do it often - actively avoided disappointing her in any way - but he’d begun to realize over the past few years that he had something of a mouth on him. It didn’t happen all the time, considering he liked being quiet, but he had a quick temper if he was pushed far enough. His Uncle Havoc said he had a sharp tongue like his dad. And every now and then when it came out, he had to face his mom afterwards. It was not good.

“You scared the hell out of Riza,” his aunt told him. She was leaning against the pillar and looking out at the street. She didn’t need to give him a look for him to feel guilty. It had already settled deep into his bones.

“I didn’t mean to,” Aidan mumbled. “Sometimes I just… I don’t know. I wanted to get away. I never get time to myself and it feels like I can’t breathe.”

Rebecca sighed and glanced at him, sympathy written on her face despite not agreeing with his methods. She could at least somewhat understand where he was coming from. Even when he was at her house, he could pretend that he was just a normal kid with normal friends, but the only reason was because Havoc was there, a live in guard. Aidan could barely remember a time when the only person he had to count on watching over him was his mom. It was tiring.

Carlights appeared around the corner, heading in their direction. Aidan didn’t need to see the car to know who it was. The black town car, the one his mom drove when they were trying to be inconspicuous, pulled into the driveway and Aidan savored the last seconds of his free life. He watched as his parents got out of the car - his dad’s movements loose and swift, letting Aidan know that his father was relieved and not mad, and his mom’s firm and precise, letting him know that she was definitely mad and upset. It was easier to get away with stuff with his dad, Mom not so much.

“Where were you?” his mom demanded as she walked up the steps.

“We said that we were going for a hike,” Aidan pointed out.

“So you ditched the guards?”

“Not my fault they couldn’t keep up with two eleven year-old boys.”

His mom stopped in front of him and gave him her patent Disappointed Face. Aidan gulped and his gaze fell to the ground. He couldn’t look at it and he couldn’t come up with anymore excuses after seeing that. She knew it too. His mom was really good at reading both him and his dad. He would accept whatever punishment was doled out without complaint. Why had he thought any of this was a good idea?

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” his dad said as he gathered Aidan’s bike to put in the car. A small grin appeared on his face as Aidan fell into step beside him. “We were about to call in a full on military search party.”

“The woods aren’t that big,” Aidan replied. “Bran just lied about having a compass and I got lost.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed at that revelation and Aidan clamped his mouth shut. Bran was going to get an extra talking to for having done that - and it put Aidan in a better light. After all, he’d been relying on someone who had made sure they were lost deliberately so they could stay out later. That was good enough payback for getting them both in trouble and would potentially lessen Aidan’s own punishment. A bit underhanded, but Bran’s trick had been as well. Sometimes you’ve got to know when to help yourself.

Still, as they drove back to the Fuhrer’s mansion, Aidan’s mind went back to that creepy, abandoned treehouse. A strange sense of peace wound its way into the back of his mind. It was his and Bran’s place. No one else knew about it, not their parents, not Ally, not the guards or any potential kidnappers. It was theirs. He didn’t have anything like that.


	6. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan is a week old and the first hurdle for Riza is upon her - and Roy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this while wearing my baby in a baby wrap. She slept the entire time except for near the end when she cried for a few seconds and then passed back out. Am I projecting much? Maaaaybe. But this is honestly something I’ve been wanting to write for a while. It just feels perfect to write now, especially when I know how it feels.

Despite herself, Riza knew that her smile looked forced no matter what she did to fix it. She was happy – no, she really was – and still something akin to dread hung in the pit of her stomach. There had been plenty of more dangerous and trying times in her life. She had been in War. She had hunted down criminals. She had fought homonculus. This was nothing. This wasn’t life or death. It was just one night.

Riza paused, smile frozen on her face, and then it all slipped out of her the second that Rebecca was in the car and gone. The smile faded into a blank look. Now that she was alone, there was no reason to force a content smile.

That was the thing, wasn’t it though? It wasn’t just one night. It was tonight and tomorrow night and the next and the next… She would never be certain when it wouldn’t be like that. Not that she was resentful or upset over it – she couldn’t be, not now, not never – but things were different and they would never be the same. She’d had difficulty sleeping on some nights before, but none of that would compare to now. It wouldn’t be nightmares keeping her up.

(In a way, it was still a sin though, wasn’t it? No, no, she refused to think of it like that. This was good – this was pure – no matter how it had come about, no matter the consequences that would surely come down the road.)

Besides, technically, she wasn’t alone.

Riza shut the door and turned back around to face her living room. Black Hayate was dutifully sitting behind her, panting and wagging his tail cheerfully as he gazed up at her. She tried to smile at him, but it faltered and fell away. At least he was in good spirits. Slowly, her gaze slid across the room until she found what she was looking for. How her heart could both feel as if it had stilled and was racing at the same time was beyond her.

There, sleeping yet wiggling in a swing, was her son.

At a week old, Aidan was a mostly content baby. He cried when he was hungry – which admittedly was often at this age because of how small his stomach was – and slept more often than not. Well, as long as someone was holding him. He would sleep for hours in her arms, but that left her little time to do much of anything else. Sleeping and eating came in a hard second next to him. It was only thanks to Rebecca staying over the past four days since leaving the hospital that Riza had been able to get any sleep.

While Havoc had watched their son at night and brought him over during the day, Rebecca had somehow managed to become a mom of two overnight to allow Riza breaks here and there. Of course, visitors made their appearances throughout the day. Members from her team incredibly excited to become “uncles” once more, a few other soldiers that she was friendly with. Edward had even called to tell her that he and Winry would be visiting soon with their two children. The past week had been a blur of getting acquainted with her son, friendly and happy faces, and haphazard attempts at sleeping.

But now it was quiet. It felt eerie after the insanity of this last week. She was used to silence, but this was different. This was the calm before the storm. Soon, Aidan would wake up and the real test would begin. Her heart steeled inside of her chest. Would she be able to handle it? Could she really do this? Would she able to be a good mother? One night or two or many more would not determine it, but she couldn’t help but feel as if so much hinged on this first night.

Tonight would be her first true night alone with Aidan – and, after nearly dying so many times at the hands of monsters, after almost losing everything, she was absolutely cold with terror.

Riza sighed and sat down on the couch next to the swing. She picked up a book, but after only a few minutes, she set it down, unable to concentrate. Grabbing the blanket hanging over the back, she laid down on the couch and pulled it over her, willing sleep to take over. She knew that she needed to get rest whenever possible, which meant when Aidan was asleep, but every time he made a cooing noise or he moved in the swing, her eyes popped open. Instead of resting, she found herself watching him, fascinated and scared even though he wasn’t doing anything at the moment.

Her heart swelled in her chest every time she looked at him. The rush of postpartum hormones didn’t help. One second she was fine and the next she was overcome with so much love and protectiveness for him that she could barely stand it – and then she was overwhelmed by sadness and fear. All she could do was rely on her sniper training: pause, close her eyes, take a deep breath, clear her mind, and then begin again.

But it was more than that. The second he’d been born and placed in her arms, time had just stopped. She looked at him and saw it – the future, hers, his, everything – the pain, the consequences, the heartbreak, the love, the lengths she would go for him. He was only a newborn, small from being born two weeks early, and yet she already knew a few things about him.

The most telling, of course, was that he looked exactly like his father.

Aidan had been born with a shock of thin black hair that would thicken as he got older and dark eyes that matched his father’s perfectly. He had the same nose, the same lips… Somehow, she knew that he would have the same smile, even though it was much too early to tell. She wondered if he would have his laugh, his determination, his fire. She looked at him now, slowly waking up because he wasn’t being held, and smiled at the thought of being able to hold him. It was more than she could do with his father right now.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Riza pulled herself off the couch and picked it up, glancing back to make sure it hadn’t woken Aidan, and then answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Riza closed her eyes and sat down at the table. She had known who it was even before hearing his voice. He tried to hold himself back, old habits of hiding in the dark hard to break, but was unable to stop himself these days. She didn’t begrudge him for it. Truth be told, every time he called or she caught a glimpse of him, her heart raced and relief filled her up.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s sleeping right now.” Riza peered at him. “But he’s going to wake soon. Rebecca says he’s cluster feeding.”

“Were you able to get any sleep before she left?”

“I got an hour or two in between feedings.” It hadn’t been nearly enough, but with him wanting to eat every hour or so, she hadn’t had much of a choice. Rebecca had offered to stay another night, but Riza had been able to tell how much being apart from her own son every night was beginning to drag her down. Besides, it wasn’t fair. Eventually, she would have to face a night alone with her son. It was easier to just do it now.

She could not avoid being a mother and she refused to do it anyways. He was her responsibility. She had felt it in her soul the next she’d decided that she was going to keep the pregnancy. He was hers. More than that, he was a part of her and always would be.

“That’s not enough.” There was a slight pause in the conversation and she could hear the hesitancy over the phone. “Did you…? Do you want me to…?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Riza didn’t mean to be cruel – she spoke as gently as she could – but the question cut them both deeply regardless. Sleeping together hadn’t been a good idea either, but they had done it and now look at where they were.

She heard his breath skip on the other end. When he spoke, the frustration and grief was so evident in his voice that it pained her. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can handle this. How am I supposed to just sit back and do nothing while you do everything on your own? How do I live with that?”

“We just do, Roy,” Riza told him softly. “We carry on and do the best we can. Isn’t that what we’ve always done?”

“The best we can do isn’t enough,” Roy growled on the other end, “not anymore, not now. He’s… I’m his father. I just want to be his father. I want to be there for you. It’s not fair that you’re alone.”

Riza propped an elbow on the table and placed the side of her face in her hand, holding it up in place. “I’m not alone. I know you’re here, even if it’s not physically, and no matter what, you will always be his father.”

She tried to keep her voice even, but it was hard. She said the words, but a part of her, the scared part that she tried to keep locked away, didn’t believe them. Because truth be told, she was alone and Roy could not be the father that either one of them wanted him to be, not right now at least. It was a hard truth that she had to swallow, but if she didn’t admit it to herself now, she was afraid that she might grow to resent him and the situation.

He would be there for her, as best and much as he could, but the fact was, she was alone right now and neither one of them knew for how long. Her heart broke a little, but she refused to acknowledge that. She didn’t have the time to be weak. Later, maybe, but not right now. Aidan needed a strong mother.

“I want to see him,” Roy said in a tone she didn’t hear very often. It made her think of finding him after Hughes’ funeral. “I want to see you.”

“And you will,” Riza sighed. “Soon, I promise. We both decided it would be best to let some time pass first.”

“I’m going to miss so much in a matter of weeks,” Roy replied miserably. She didn’t contradict him this time. It was true. Saying anything else would only hurt him even more. “I miss you. I miss him already and he’s only a week old. I feel like… I don’t know. I feel like burning everything to the ground when I think about how I can’t even hold him.”

“You will,” Riza soothed, “you will.”

Roy took a shuddering breath on the other end. She wondered if he’d been drinking. He sounded clear over the phone. Later on, he’d probably wander to Madam Christmas’ new bar. His foster mother wasn’t the most comforting of people, but he wouldn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be with his family and they were all he had right now. The girls would comfort him at least. She honestly hoped he would go there. Sometimes, when he didn’t want to be alone, he forced it upon himself as some sort of self-inflicted punishment.

But just as Riza was afraid of her first full night alone with Aidan, she was also afraid of Roy being alone too. It wasn’t just her in this. Both of them only had an empty bed to comfort them. The difference was that Riza had their son while he had no one.

A sudden, pitiful cry rose in the air, startling Riza out of her thoughts, and her head jerked in the direction of her son. Aidan was wiggling as best as he could in the swaddled blanket and crying in the swing.

“I have to go,” Riza abruptly said.

“Aidan?” Roy queried, his voice hitching in panic. He sounded ready to jump in his car and rush over to them now.

“He’s fine,” Riza said. “He just woke up. Probably hungry or wanting to be held. We’ll see.”

Roy gulped. “Riza, I–”

“I know, I know,” she told him. And she did. She knew everything that he wanted to say, everything that he felt, everything that he believed and hoped for. He’d never needed to say it out loud for her to know, even though she knew how much he wanted to. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Any time,” Roy said seriously. “You call me any time. I don’t care when. And if you need anything, if you need me…”

Riza smiled. “I’ll let you know.”

It wasn’t a proper goodbye, but then they’d never needed them before. She hung up the phone and rushed over to her son, scooping him a little awkwardly out of the swing. Within a few seconds, Aidan quieted down, pressing the side of his face against her. A rush of emotions swelled over her, good and bad, and so all she could do was fight tears as she sunk down onto the couch and held her son close against her chest.

Yes, she was afraid and, yes, she wished more than anything that Roy could be here, but she could do this. They both would. They had no choice, not if they were going to make good on their promises. Riza gazed down at Aidan. She only hoped that her son would be able to understand one day and know that he would never be alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy notices that something is wrong with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Elle, who inspires me. <3

After all his time in the military, Roy could spot when something was wrong by a mile off -- and there was something definitely wrong with his son.

He couldn’t be sure exactly what it was, but it wasn’t like Aidan to be outwardly downtrodden in front of others, even when he was upset. Perhaps unfortunately, he was the product of his parents, meaning that he had a terrible habit of hiding how he truly felt. He was also fifteen, which meant that he was even more prone to hiding his thoughts and emotions from his parents.

Aidan was very earnest when it came to being a teenager, shockingly so to most people, but he didn’t like to upset people. If it came to bothering people or being honest with what he was feeling, he’d lie every time. Aidan had learned how to lie and put a smile on his face from birth, a product of what Roy and Riza had been forced to do when he was born. Roy couldn’t just ignore how that talent came about or the consequences it beared.

He had an honest son that was good at lying. That meant bad news for any parent.

Presently, Aidan was leaning against the table, one elbow propped on the table and the side of his face slumped against his fist while he stirred his spoon around his oatmeal with disinterest. Roy was keeping one eye on the newspaper in his hands and the other on his son. Aidan was one of those rare children that was a morning person, just like his mother, and while he wasn’t chatty, he was usually more active. He would eat while reading a book, be it for school or for his alchemy lessons, or ask about work.

Such a curious kid, just like he had been at Aidan’s age.

Today, however, there was none of that. Roy read the newspaper, Riza drank her coffee, and Aidan picked at his food. This wasn’t a sudden change, however. Roy had noted a slight change in Aidan’s behavior over the past few days, starting after the Tuesday he came home from baseball practice, but when Roy had asked if something had happened, Aidan had laughed and brushed it off as making some dumb mistakes. He got so down on himself when he did things like that, just like Roy did. When he came home acting the same way the next day, Roy knew that it wasn’t just a few mistakes.

His suspicions were further confirmed after overhearing part of a phone call the night before. Roy did not actively go out of his way to eavesdrop on his son. Aidan was a good kid -- he hadn’t gotten into any trouble since punching that boy over besmirching Riza -- but Roy had gone to let him know that dinner was ready when he caught the tailend of a conversation Aidan was having with his best friend.

_ “--not even that good-looking! _ ” Aidan had exclaimed inside his room.

Roy had paused mid-knock because there was nothing else he could do. Out of all the things he’d expected to hear his son say, something about someone’s looks was not one of them. Aidan was incredibly polite. He would tell any woman if they were pretty out of pure sincerity or say nothing at all. But to outright insult someone on their looks? Roy had never heard anything from him. Granted, Aidan was a teenager, so there was a good chance that he hid part of himself from his parents.

_ “Not you too, Bran!”  _ Aidan groaned.  _ “He’s a total idiot. He keeps telling everyone that he’s older because of where he transferred from, but he was actually held back a year. Yes, it’s the truth! I got a look at his records.” _

Well, shit. That was definitely his son.

It was Friday. Typically Aidan would talk about weekend plans, almost always with his closest friends. Roy counted himself lucky that his son was able to grow up with children his age. It was happenstance that Aidan was born in the middle of Havoc’s two kids. The three of them were inseparable. Aidan was also close to Edward’s children, especially his second child, Sara, although they were farther away. Despite being a relatively quiet kid, he had kids that he constantly did things with -- except this weekend.

“Finally, Creta is willing to sit down for talks now that we’ve signed a treaty with Drachma,”  Roy sighed as he turned to the comics in the newspaper. “I’ll be at work all weekend.”

“You never delegate when negotiations start,” Riza put in.

“I don’t trust people with peace talks,” Roy said. He glanced over at Aidan, who was still stirring his oatmeal forlornly. It wasn’t like him. Aidan was always so curious about what was going on in the government, especially their relations with other countries. He and Bran were more involved in it than most kids their age, if only because of who their parents were. “What about your weekend plans, Aidan? Your mother and I will probably be at HQ.”

Aidan startled in his seat, as if suddenly aware that there were people at the table besides him. “Um, no plans, just staying in this weekend.”

Roy folded the newspaper and set it down on the table. “Oh? What about Bran and Ally?”

“Ah, Bran is grounded for getting a bad grade on a test and trying to hide it,” Aidan replied. An honest answer -- but not an entire one. Roy tilted his head, prompting his son further. Aidan straightened up, cleared his throat, and went back to picking at his food. “And Ally is busy.”

“Busy?” Riza asked curiously.

“Yeah, she, um--” Aidan’s lips twisted into a frown. It had been a while since Roy had seen him so open with his emotions. Normally he was pretty good at hiding them considering his age. “She’s got plans with other friends.”

Riza nodded her head. “Well, it’s only natural that she has friends in her class.”

“She doesn’t even like most of them!” Aidan practically exploded. “It’s just because of--” He clamped his mouth shut and Roy knew that Aidan was suddenly aware of how much he was giving away. Roy could see his son’s face closing off as he locked away whatever he was feeling. And whatever he was feeling was definitely a feeling that Roy knew well: it was jealousy. A calm, disinterested expression that Roy also recognized came over Aidan’s face and Aidan shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. Midterms are coming up. I need to study.”

Picking up his mug of coffee, Roy peered at his son over the rim. “No dates or anything?”

Aidan immediately choked on his bite of oatmeal and turned red. “N-no, I don’t have time. Between school, alchemy lessons, and baseball, it’s all I can do to hang out with any friends.”

“Surely there’s someone you’re interested in,” Roy continued, as if completely unaware of Aidan’s reaction. “When I was your age--” Riza shot him a flat look and he smiled. “Just because you don’t have time doesn’t mean you aren’t interested in anyone. I would know.”

“I don’t have time,” Aidan insisted, which wasn’t an answer, but was final nonetheless.

Roy should’ve given it up, but he had always liked to push boundaries. Maybe he should’ve been a little more delicate since the boundary belonged to his son, but Aidan would be close-mouthed for years unless he was pushed and Roy didn’t know how to do anything but push seeing as how he and Riza were just the same.

He waited until he was at work and found Havoc in an equally grumbly mood. Roy popped in on his subordinate like a fox on its prey. “Get into a fight with Catalina?”

Havoc scoffed. “No, we’re a little beyond that.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Well, since I painted the cabinets black without asking her a few months ago. I thought they looked good…” They did, in fact, not look good, but Roy was not about to admit to agreeing on something with Havoc’s wife. He’d made it a rule to never outright side with Rebecca unless they both knew to keep quiet on the matter. “It’s just that, well, Ally…”

“Is everything alright?” Roy asked. “Do you need leave?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Havoc quickly dismissed. “She’s just… She’s going on her first date this weekend.”

“Oh?” Roy raised an eyebrow. “Aidan did say she had plans with other friends.”

Havoc slumped back in his seat and folded his arms. “It’s a group date, so none of them are alone. I guess it’s supposed to make us feel better about it, but…” He sighed and shook his head. “My baby girl is growing up, you know? It’s hard. What if the kid is an ass like we were at that age -- like we were for years? She’s a tough girl, but I don’t want her to get her heart broken.”

Roy shrugged. “It happens. Lesson learned.”

“Easy for you to say,” Havoc replied with a snort. “Not everyone has a son who has the manners of a gentleman. I’m going to have to drill them into Bran or Rebecca will ground him for eternity. Who knows what kind of guy Ally will like with those two as her examples of boys her age.”

That was when it fully hit Roy. He’d had his suspicions for quite a while -- years, if he was being honest -- but everything made sense. What kind of boy did Ally like? A good-looking one? Older? Smart? Oh, his boy had his first crush and was totally smitten -- and it was on his best friend. Damn, like father, like son.

“I’m sure the time will come for Aidan soon enough,” Roy pointed out.

“That kid?” Havoc whistled. “He’s got his head in the clouds with academics. He only joined the baseball team because Bran asked and Ally goaded him.”

Of course she did. Aidan could say no to Bran, but he could never say no to Ally. It had been like that for as long as Roy could remember since Ally learned how to talk. Short of human transmutation and (most) crimes, Roy was almost certain that Aidan would do anything Ally asked of him. And he’d justify it the entire time, telling himself how much she meant to him, how she was like a sister, how she was his best friend’s sister…

Roy sincerely hoped it did not take Aidan nearly as long to recognize these feelings for Ally for what they were as it had for Roy concerning Riza.

“Well, if she does get her heart broken, we probably don’t need to worry,” Roy said, “not with Bran and Aidan having her back.”

Especially not with Aidan. He had a very protective streak, pointedly concerning the women in his life. And considering that one of his closest friends was Sara Elric, he probably knew how to use his alchemy to do more damage than he let on. Any boy that hurt Ally would have to watch himself. Ah, young love. Roy tried not to laugh. How painful.


	8. the jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza and Roy try to assuage their son's concerns about his first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey! Since you liked that, then how about some more? I’ve been wanting to write this for ages, but talking to stupidsexymustang on tumblr the other day and her fic got me inspired. These kids are everything to me. There will probably be a second part to this, but don’t expect it too soon. (Our boy’s got his first date. They grow up so fast!)

Glancing at the clock, Riza noted that there was only five more minutes before they had to leave. Something must have been wrong for her son to be running late. He had been timely since she’d started instilling a routine in him when he was a baby, proving once more that he had more of her temperament than his father’s. However, he’d been lagging the entire day when they were on a specific timeline.

Yes, something was definitely wrong.

Walking to his bedroom, she knocked on the door. “Aidan, is everything alright?”

“Yes,” her son’s muffled voice called back, “perfectly fine.”

To anyone else, he would sound completely believable. Nothing sounded amiss in his voice or the speed of his response. His voice was even and content. To his mother, she knew that he was bothered about something. He was only this calm with her when he was trying to hide something. Around her, he was more open and usually allowed something to slip.

But she also knew not to push him. Roy would push. He couldn’t help it; pushing for more was in his nature. She knew that Aidan would tell her with little to no prompting in time. Ever since he’d punched that boy for talking bad about her and gotten into an argument with Roy, he’d been on good behavior.

A moment later, the door opened and Aidan stepped out. Riza wouldn’t have been able to stop the smile from spreading across her face if she’d wanted to. “You look so handsome,” she told him, stopping the urge to pull him into a hug. She could tell that he was holding back, so she gave him space.

Aidan smiled sheepishly at her, his cheeks turning pink. Indeed he did look handsome. All of a sudden, Riza knew in her heart that her little boy was growing up and it both made her heart swell in pride and hurt with nostalgia. He was wearing a black suit that looked almost exactly like one of Roy’s old suits. It was black and fit him perfectly, tailored by the woman that had been working on Roy’s suits for years, with a white button up shirt and scarf. She bet he had a pair of white gloves tucked away in his pocket too.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Aidan asked.

Riza brushed down a few errant strands of his hair, which could never be fully tamed. God, he looked so much like his father right now. She had to fight the urge to tear up. Before long, he’d been an adult and right now he almost looked the part. “No, you look great.”

“Dad knows what he’s doing, I guess,” Aidan replied with a chuckle.

“You can thank Madam Christmas for that,” Roy pointed out as he walked up behind Riza and placed a hand on the small of her back. He let out a low whistle. “You almost look as good as me in a suit.”

Aidan rolled his eyes to connect with Riza’s and she gave him a faint, knowing smile.

Roy kept up a breezy chat as they made their way to the front door, but Riza noticed that Aidan was completely silent and had a distant look in his eyes. Normally, he was very attentive, but his mind was elsewhere. He blinked a few times, his face passive as he looked at his father. At the door, he kept raising his hand as if to brush his fingers through his hair, but then would consciously stop and put it back down, until he finally shoved them both into his pockets.

Finally, Aidan let out a sigh and admitted, “I wish Bran and Ally could ride with me.”

“That’s not how dates work, buddy,” Roy pointed out before casting a wink at Riza. Now she was the one that had to roll her eyes.

“Uncle Havoc rides with you all when you go out for date nights,” Aidan grumbled under his breath.

Roy smirked. “Well, that’s only because I’m the Fuhrer and your mother won’t agree to sneaking out.”

“Besides,” Aidan added, “it’s not a date.”

His voice, tinged with the sort of panic that could only belong to a teenage boy about to go on his first actual date, said otherwise of course and both Riza and Roy knew it. This was definitely Roy’s area of expertise. He was a lot more nuanced when it came to interpersonal relationships and also dating. He also knew how to walk through Aidan’s evasiveness as well.

“You asked her to the dance, didn’t you?” Roy asked.

“Yes, but–”

“Did you ask her to go with you as friends?”

Aidan snapped his mouth shut and didn’t respond. No, he hadn’t.

The day he’d asked one of his classmates to the dance, he’d come home like it was nothing. She was almost certain they wouldn’t have even known Aidan had asked someone until the last minute if Bran had not said something. Roy had actually cheered the moment after Bran bemoaned, _“Of course you’d have a date before me,”_ before apologizing and offering to give Bran some tips.

He had acted like it was no big deal up until today and been even more vague when he’d owned up to it. Bran had been the one to tell them the story while Aidan finished his alchemy studies. Her name was Samantha and she was in their math class. They’d become friends after he’d helped her earlier in the schoolyear. She was very pretty and popular apparently as well. When Roy had nudged him teasingly about landing a pretty girl, all Aidan had said was,  _“She’s very kind,”_  without even looking up from his studies.

Turning to the side, Roy held out a hand almost thoughtfully. “If you’d wanted to go with someone to the dance as friends, you should’ve just asked Ally.”

Aidan’s face turned red so quickly that Riza had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. It had become even more apparent throughout the past year that her son’s feelings for Havoc’s daughter were beginning to morph, but either he was too stubborn to admit it to himself, in denial, or unaware. It was made only more complicated by the fact that she was his best friend’s younger sister and they’d all grown up together.

He’d been in an up and down mood when Ally had had her first boyfriend. She thought he had become more aware that things were different, but after the relationship had ended, he went back to his old self. It was a shame, really. She didn’t want him pining after Ally until it was too late. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of them. But then she had to remind herself that they were still kids. Just because she and Roy had had an absurd romance did not mean they would.

Now the tables had been turned and not everyone was happy about it.

Aidan had brought up the idea of all of them going together as a group after the fact. The idea had been shot down by Roy and Rebecca for “tactical reasons” as Aidan was the Furher’s son, which made no sense and Aidan knew it. He also knew better than to question Rebecca. The truth was, as Riza found out later from Rebecca, that Ally had not wanted to ride with them. She didn’t have a date unlike the two boys and was upset about it, but also did not want to admit it. Riza didn’t know why Ally didn’t have a date, especially when Bran had said that she was the first one to be asked out to the dance, but she had a feeling it had something to do with her son being dateless at the time.

Except Aidan had asked someone else and left Ally dateless. She hadn’t wanted to go, but after some curious and dejected questioning from Aidan, she’d admitted that she didn’t want to miss it.

Oh, those kids were such a mess, but it was cute. Riza just didn’t like Ally getting her heart broken, especially when the cause was her own boy, who didn’t seem to have a clue.

Still red-faced, Aidan tugged on his scarf and looked away. “I couldn’t have asked Ally. That would be weird.”

It felt like she was looking at a sixteen year-old Edward being confronted about his love for Winry.

Roy clapped Aidan on the shoulder. “Listen; don’t think about it too hard. Just have fun! I guarantee this girl isn’t expecting a dozen roses, a song and dance dedicated to her, or chocolate.”

“Was I supposed to get her something?” Aidan asked. “I should have got her something. You always get Mom stuff.”

That Roy did. The moment he could buy her gifts just because he couldn’t stop himself.

Roy grinned. “I’m pretty sure being picked up in the Furher’s vehicle with bodyguards is cool enough.”

Aidan groaned. “Ugh, do they have to stay the whole night?” As someone that has always kept to himself and liked his privacy, having guards around bothered him, even if they were people he’d known for his entire life. She knew he didn’t like it, but it had to be done, especially since tensions with Creta had gotten higher recently.

The door opened and Breda peeked his head inside. “I promise we won’t spy on you the entire time. You’ll have to have some time alone with your lady.”

“She’s not my lady!” Aidan exclaimed.

Breda winked. “Whatever you say, boss. Your ride is here.”

Sighing, Aidan turned to both his parents. He let Riza hug him and she was pleased when he returned it strongly. She couldn’t help but know that soon he wouldn’t need her, but it was her and him against the world for those first few years that they’d formed such a close bond. She was always secretly happy when he came to her for comfort still.

“Have fun,” she said. “Bran and Ally will meet you there and you’ll forget all your worries.”

“What if I make an idiot out of myself?”

Roy clapped Aidan on the shoulders. “I’m pretty sure that you’re the only boy your age that knows how to waltz, so she’ll be plenty impressed. If that doesn’t do it, just quote some poetry about her beauty.”

Aidan scoffed. “Then she’ll really think that I’m an idiot.”

“Just be yourself, okay?” Roy told him. “She said yes to you for a reason.” He smiled and stood up straight. “You’re charming as it is. Girls like you the way you are.”

At least one girl did, except when he wasn’t noticing her.

Aidan took whatever comfort he could from them and left, waving goodbye to them. Breda promised to take care of him and walked him to the car where another guard was in the driver’s seat. Roy and Riza watched them leave from the doorway, shutting the door only when the car was through the gate.

Once the door was shut, Roy sighed. “Poor kid. Can’t even see a girl is nuts about him when it’s right in front of him the whole time.” He pulled Riza closer to him, that lop-sided grin of his back on his face. “Reminds me of a certain girl back when she was younger.”

“Oh, I knew you liked me,” Riza replied, pulling out of his grip. “I just thought you were goofy.”

“Hey!”

The wait had definitely been worth it and she was incredibly happy with the family she had now, but she certainly hoped that Aidan would realize things much sooner than they had.


End file.
